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BESS    OF    HARDWICK 

AND   HER   CIRCLE 


BY   THE   SAME   AUTHOR 

A    LADY    OF    THE    REGENCY 

JOURNEYMAN    LOVE 

THE    APPRENTICE 

TALES    OF    RYE    TOWN 

THE    labourer's    COMEDY 

THE    ENCHANTED    GARDEN 

THE    EASY-GO-LUC KIES 

THE    STAIRWAY    OF    HONOUR 

HAPPINESS 


(  V/  '///f/// .   f  'ff/Z/A-.M  tV 


f/  // :  tf  f/  /  /, 


'/ 


BESS  OF  HARDWICK 

AND   HER   CIRCLE 


BY 
MAUD   STEPNEY   RAWSON 


WITH  THIRTY-EIGHT  ILLUSTRATIONS 
INCLUDING    A    PHOTOGRAVURE    FRONTISPIECE 


NEW    YORK 
JOHN    LANE   COMPANY 

MCMX 


A 


Printed  in  Great  Britain 


College 
lAhiaxy 

J>A 

TO   MY   HUSBAND 

**  i  ""O  you  belongs,  for  many  a  reason,  tnls,  my  first 
essay  in  history,  which  I  have  carried  to  its  end 
with   many  misgivings,  but  with  much  delight  in  the 
matter  itself. 

The  orthodox  may  be  affronted  at  two  brief  incursions 
into  fiction  which  they  will  find  in  it.  Let  them  skip 
these  judiciously,  magisterially.  For  my  own  part,  I 
needed  consolation  at  times  for  certain  hard  and  bitter 
facts  of  the  history.  Therefore,  since  the  way  was 
sometimes  long,  and  the  wind,  in  my  imagination,  very 
cold — as  it  whistled  in  and  out  of  the  ruins  of  those 
manors  and  castles  where  the  Scots  Queen  and  her  mar- 
ried gaolers  dwelt,  or  as  it  drove  the  snow  across  the 
splendid  grey  facade  of  Hardwick  (to  say  nothing  of 
the  draughts  of  the  sombre,  public  research  libraries) — 
I  first  drew  my  Countess  down  from  her  picture-frame 
to  marshal  her  household,  and  then  lured  her  child  and 
her  child's  lover  after  her  to  gladden  your  road  and 
mine. 

And  so  I  give  you — besides  all  the  thoughts  which 
have  gone  to  every  scrap  of  writing  I  have  ever  done — 
these  last,  which  curl  and  stiffen  and  again  uncoil 
themselves  about  this  hungry  woman  of  Elizabethan 


vi  TO   MY   HUSBAND 

days.  Into  her  life  and  much-abused  toil,  we,  who 
have  neither  gold  nor  heirs  for  whom  to  store  it,  can 
look  together  in  love  and  pity. 

Thus  even  while  we  rejoice  over  our  diminutive 
home,  may  we  never  forget  to  give  thanks  to  the  spirit 
of  those  who  built  the  great  houses  which  nourish  the 
little  ones,  and  who,  in  place  of  the  "  scarlet  blossom  of 
pain  "  that  grows  at  great  door  and  little,  shall  give  to 
us  in  the  end  the  perfect  English  rose. 

M.  S.  R. 

Little  Orchard, 
Streatley, 
Berks. 


AUTHOR'S   NOTE 

All  complete  letters  herein  quoted  have  been  put  into  modern 
spelling.  These,  with  the  exception  of  one  or  two  fragments 
and  when  the  source  is  not  otherwise  indicated,  have  been 
selected  from  the  transcripts  in  Lodge's  Illustrations  of  British 
History^  from  the  originals  amongst  the  Talbot,  Howard,  and 
Cecil  MSS. 

The  Author  gratefully  acknowledges  the  special  permission 
of  his  Grace  the  Duke  of  Devonshire  to  include  in  this  work 
reproductions  of  many  of  the  fine  pictures  at  Hardwick  Hall, 
as  well  as  a  number  of  views  of  that  noble  building. 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTEF 
I. 

The  Red-haired  Girl 

r  - 

II. 

The  Mistress  Builder 

III. 

"A  Great  Gentleman" 

IV. 

Hubbub 

V. 

Make-believe 

VI. 

Plot  and  Counterplot 

VII. 

Family  Letters 

VIII. 

A  Certain  Journey     . 

IX. 

Love  and  the  Woodman 

X. 

Aftermath   . 

XI. 

Various  Occurrences 

XII. 

My  Lord  Leicester's  Cure 

XIII. 

The  Divided  Way 

XIV. 

"  Bruits  "       . 

XV. 

Ruth  and  Joyusitie     . 

XVI. 

Volte  Face  . 

XVII. 

The  Coil  Thickens     . 

XVIII. 

"  Face  to  Face  " 

XIX. 

Hammer  and  Tongs    . 

XX. 

Fading  Glories 

XXI. 

Heir  and  Dowager 

XXII. 

Arabella  Dances  into  Court 

XXIII. 

My  Lady's  Mansions    . 
Index 

LIST   OF   ILLUSTRATIONS 


Elizabeth  Countess  of  Shrewsbury  {Photogravure) 

Hardwick  Old  Hall 

Sir  William  Cavendish 

Hardwick  Old  Hall  :    the  Giants'  Chamber    . 

Sir  William  St.  Loe 

George  Talbot,  Earl  of  Shrewsbury 

Elizabeth  Countess  of  Shrewsbury    . 

Mary  Queen  of  Scots 

Mary  Queen  of  Scots'  Apartments  and  Dungeons  at 
bury,  from  the  North-west 

Wingfield  .... 

Mary  Queen  of  Scots'  Bower,  Chatsworth 

William  Cecil,  Lord  Burghley 

Thomas  Howard,  Duke  of  Norfolk  . 

The  Manor  House,  Sheffield 

Gilbert  Talbot,  Seventh  Earl  of  Shrewsbury 

Lady  Margaret  Douglas,  Countess  of  Lennox 

Robert  Dudley,  Earl  of  Leicester    . 

Queen  Elizabeth 

Elizabeth  Countess  of  Shrewsbury    . 

George  Talbot,  Sixth  Earl  of  Shrewsbury 

Mary  Cavendish,  Countess  of  Shrewsbury 

Hardwick  Hall,  showing  Entrance  Gateway 

xi 


Frontispiece 
"To  fact  page 

2 

4 
6 

i6 

38 
38 
64 

66 

70 

72 
80 
86 
90 
100 

I20 

178 
182 
198 
20Z 
252 
258 


Xll 


LIST   OF   ILLUSTRATIONS 


Statue  of  Mary  Quekn  of  Scots 

Queen  Elizabeth  (Jby   Zucchero) 

Arabella  Stuart  as  a  Child 

Arabella  Stuart 

Hardwick  Hall  :    the  Picturk  Gallery  from 

Welbeck  Abbey  . 

Hardwick  Hall  :    the  Dining-room  . 

James  the  Fifth  . 

Tomb  of  Elizabeth  Countess  of  Shrewsbury 

Thi  Entrance  Hali,  Hardwick  Hall 

BoLsovER  Castle  . 

Hardwick  Hall  :    the  Picture  Gallery 

Mary  Queen  of  Scots  {by  P.  Oudry) 

Mary  Queen  of  Scots'  Bed,  Hardwick  Hall 

Hardwick   Hall  :    the  Presknce-chamber 

Hardwick  Hall  from  the  West  Garden 


To  fact  pagt 

310 

316 

330 

332 

the  Noi 

ITH 

336 
340 
342 

344 
346 
348 
352 
354 
356 

•     358 

360 

.     362 

BESS  OF  HARDWICK 

AND    HER    CIRCLE 


CHAPTER   I 


THE    RED-HAIRED    GIRL 


A  MONG  the  hills  and  dales  of  Derbyshire,  that  great 
-^  county  of  august  estates,  there  came  into  the  world 
in  the  year  1520  a  certain  baby  girl.  Her  father,  John 
Hardwick  of  Hardwick  House,  and  her  mother  Eliza- 
beth, daughter  of  Thomas  Leake  of  Hasland,  in  the 
same  county,  christened  the  child  Elizabeth,  naturally 
enough  after  her  mother.  Like  the  great  Queen  of 
England  to  whom  she  was  senior,  and  with  whom  in 
after  years  she  had  so  much  traffic  of  a  highly  dramatic 
kind,  this  Elizabeth  has  come  down  to  posterity  under 
the  shorter  name  of  Bess. 

Derbyshire,  always  a  great  county,  was  specially  im- 
portant in  her  day.  Far  from  London  and  Court  it 
seemed  like  a  little  England  within  England.  Its  great 
families  wove  its  life  step  by  step,  its  varied  landscape, 
its  heights  and  dales  rendered  it  an  important  strategical 
centre  in  the  event  of  rebellion,  and  the  roughness  and 
slough  of  pack-road  and  cart-road  made  even  local  ex- 
peditions affairs  of  moment.  The  little  red-haired  baby 
girl  inherited  from  her  native  soil,  from  her  race,  and 

B 


ft  BESS  OF  HARDWICR 

from  the  neighbours  about  her  all  that  sense  of  county 
importance,  that  desire  to  found,  establish  and  endow  a 
great  family  with  great  estates  which  her  life  developed 
to  so  remarkable  a  degree.  That  consciousness  of  county 
importance  was' inevitable  in  those  days  when  families 
gave  their  names  not  only  to  their  mansions,  but  to  the 
hamlets  or  village  which  clustered  round  them.  Bess  of 
Hardwick  was  brought  up  amongst  them  all — the  Hard- 
wicks  of  Hardwick,  the  Barleys  of  Barley  (or  Barlow),  the 
Pinchbecks  of  Pinchbeck,  the  Blackwalls  of  Blackwall,  the 
Leakes,  and  the  Leches.  Not  all  of  them  were  so  very 
opulent.  The  Hardwicks,  though  not  rich,  were  of 
honourable  standing  as  county  gentry,  and  the  Barleys 
and  Leakes  were  of  the  same  social  rank.  John  Hard- 
wick could  not  afford  to  give  his  daughters  large  dowries, 
and  consequently  when  my  Lady  Zouche,  her  aunt,  took 
Bess  into  her  household  in  London  the  parents  were 
probably  glad  enough  to  embrace  such  a  social  chance 
for  her.  Up  to  this  time  she  led  naturally  the  life  of 
the  ordinary  young  gentlewoman  of  tender  years,  said 
her  prayers,  learnt  to  sew  and  embroider,  and  had  seen 
something  of  the  ordering  of  a  household  and  the  dis- 
posal of  country  produce,  while  she  heard  and  treasured 
up  such  scraps  of  news  as  filtered  through  to  her  family 
and  neighbours  by  letters  and  travellers  who  came  to 
the  houses  about  her,  or  such  rumours  as  were  bruited 
in  the  county  town.  She  was  but  twelve  years  old 
when  she  made  her  entry  at  once  into  my  Lady  Zouche's 
house  and  into  history.  We  are  told  that  she  had 
reddish  hair  and  small  eyes,  but  no  picture  of  her  re- 
mains to  give  any  idea  of  her  appearance  at  this  moment 
when  she  left  her  childhood  behind  her.  Physique  she 
must  always  have  had,  and  with  it  tenacity  and  tact  in 


THE   RED-HAIRED   GIRL  3 

furthering  her  own  prospects.  She  was  of  the  type  in 
which  the  art  of  "getting  on"  is  innate.  London  and 
my  Lady  Zouche's  excellent  social  position  gave  her 
her  first  chance. 

There  is  almost  a  touch  of  Becky  Sharp  in  the  way 
that  this  young  girl,  dowerless  save  for  the  forty  marks  of 
dot  allotted  by  John  Hardwick  to  each  of  his  daughters, 
settled  down  in  that  household.  There  came  to  London 
one  of  her  Derbyshire  neighbours — a  youth  of  the 
Barley  or  Barlow  family,  named  Robert.  Under  Lady 
Zouche's  roof  he  fell  sick  and  the  little  niece  helped  to 
tend  him.  Whether  he  also  fell  in  love,  whether 
Mistress  Hardwick  the  mother  was  minded  to  "  settle  " 
one  at  least  of  her  girls  early,  or  whether  Lady  Zouche 
was  of  a  strong  match-making  tendency  does  not  appear. 
But  a  marriage  between  the  niece  and  the  guest  was 
arranged  and  quickly  carried  through.  A  strange 
pitiful  affair  it  must  have  been — that  London  wedding 
between  the  red-haired  child  and  the  sickly  young  man 
— a  ceremony  trailing  after  it  a  sorry  hope  of  happiness 
in  the  midst  of  physicking  and  nostrums,  weakness  and 
watching,  until  the  death  of  the  bridegroom  before  the 
bride  had  reached  her  fourteenth  year.  His  death  left 
no  apparent  gap  in  my  Lady  Zouche's  household  and 
no  mark  upon  history.  But  it  bestowed  on  the  child- 
wife  the  dignity  of  widowhood,  and  such  importance, 
plus  her  forty  marks,  as  attached  to  any  property  that 
Robert  Barlow  left  her.  The  Barlows  were  not  wealthy. 
Some  of  them  in  after  years  were  in  sore  straits  for 
a  living.  The  State  Papers  show  the  existence  of 
piteous  letters  from  a  certain  Jane  Barlow  who  writes  in 
January,  1583,  to  her  father,  Alexander  Barlow,  "from 
a  foreign   land."     She   is   in   extreme  want,   forced    to 


4  BESS  OF   HARDWICK 

borrow  money  to  carry  on  her  "  business,"  and  assures 
him  that  the  meanest  servant  he  has  "  liveth  in  far 
better  condition  than  she."  There  is  nothing  to  show 
that  the  Barlows  applied  to  their  relation  "  Bess "  in 
after  years  for  help.  Such  property  as  there  was  passed 
to  her,  and  she  travelled  out  of  their  ken  into  richer 
circles. 

In  1547,  at  the  age  of  twenty-seven,  a  woman  in  the 
height  of  her  powers  and  the  perfection  of  her  woman- 
hood, with  considerable  knowledge  of  the  world  and  a 
tremendous  store  of  physical  and  mental  vitality,  she 
secured  a  second  husband  and  a  man  of  considerable 
means — Sir  William  Cavendish.  He  was  the  second 
son  of  Thomas  Cavendish,  and  his  family,  like  that  of 
Bess,  took  its  name  from  its  hamlet  or  manor.  Says 
the  pompous  Bishop  Kennct  of  those  days  :  "  The 
Cavendishes,  like  other  great  Families  of  greatest 
Antiquity  derived  a  Name  from  their  Place  of  Habita- 
tion. A  younger  branch  of  the  Germons,  famous  in 
Norfolk  and  Essex,  settled  at  Cavendish  in  Suffolk,  and 
from  that  Seat  and  Estate  were  soon  distinguished  by 
that  Sirname."  Thomas  Cavendish,  like  the  father  of 
Bess,  was  "a  well-to-do  but  undistinguished  Squire," 
but  his  sons  made  names  for  themselves. 

In  1539  his  son  William  was  appointed  one  of  the 
auditors  of  the  Court  of  Augmentation.  This  Court, 
of  which  one  at  least  of  the  members  had  been  em- 
ployed as  a  commissioner  for  the  surrender  of  religious 
houses,  was  ostensibly  founded  to  ensure  the  increase 
of  the  royal  exchequer  to  such  a  point  as  would  enable 
the  sovereign  duly  to  establish  and  strengthen  the 
defences  of  the  realm.  Within  a  year  Mr.  Cavendish 
had  so  well  played  his  cards  and  acquitted  himself  that 


From  a  photo  by  Richard  Keeite,  Ltd.,  Dethy,  nftcr  tlte  pain: uig  at  ilarai 
By  permission  of  his  Grace  the  Duke  of  Devonshire 

SIR  WILLIAM  CAVENDISH 


Page  4 


THE   RED-HAIRED   GIRL  5 

he  received  from  Henry  VIII  a  grant  of  Church  pro- 
perty— the  lordships  and  manors  of  Northawe,  Cuffley, 
and  Childewicke  in  Hertfordshire.  In  1548,  the  year 
after  his  marriage,  he  was  further  rewarded  not  only 
by  the  post  of  "  Treasurer  of  the  Chamber  to  the 
King "  which,  we  are  assured,  was  "  a  place  of  great 
trust  and  honour,"  but  the  knighthood  which  brought  his 
third  wife  the  title  that  raised  her  above  the  majority 
of  her  fellow-gentlewomen.  He  did  not  bring  her  a 
virgin  heart,  for  he  had  been  twice  married  and  twice 
a  widower  without  male  heir.  But  he  conferred  on  her 
important  social  position,  a  great  deal  of  land — addi- 
tional prizes  fell  to  his  share  in  the  way  of  lesser  glebe 
properties,  abbeys,  and  rectories,  because  his  appoint- 
ment in  the  royal  exchequer  kept  him  au  courant  of  the 
places  which  were  being  given  or  going  cheap  in  the 
market — and  she  in  her  turn  brought  him  the  sons  he 
doubtless  so  greatly  desired. 

Never  surely  did  a  couple  settle  down  so  whole- 
heartedly or  so  harmoniously  to  the  founding  of  a 
family,  to  the  increase  and  consolidation  of  their  patri- 
mony. As  to  the  first — their  offspring — Sir  William 
made  a  proud  and  careful  list  in  writing,  being,  as 
Collins^  says,  "A  learned  and  exact  Person."  He  had 
in  all  sixteen  children,  eight  of  whom  were  borne  to 
him  by  "  this  beautiful  and  discreet  Lady,"  as  Collins 
describes  Bess  Cavendish. 

The  fact  that  his  second  wife's  name  was  also  Eliza- 
beth has  at  times  given  rise  to  misstatements  with 
regard  to  the  place  and  date  of  his  third  marriage,  but 
he  was  careful  to  record  this  :  "  I  was  married  to 
Elizabeth  Hardwick,  my  third  wife,  in  Leicestershire, 
1  Collins'  Noble  Families. 


6  BESS  OF   HARDWICK 

at  Brodgate,  my  Lord  Marquess's^  House,  the  20th  of 
August,  in  the  first  yeare  of  King  Ed.  the  6,  at  2  of 
the  Clock  after  midnight." 

Of  the  eight  children  of  this  marriage  six  survived. 
The  others  were  Temperance,  "my  10  childe  and  the 
second  by  the  same  woman,"  and  Lucrcce  the  youngest. 
The  surviving  daughters  were  Frances  Cavendish,  the 
eldest,  married  to  Sir  Henry  Pierrepoint,  of  Holme 
Picrrepoint,  Notts  ;  Elizabeth  Cavendish,  who  es- 
poused Charles  Stuart,  Earl  of  Lennox  ;  and  Mary, 
the  youngest  girl,  who  became  the  wife  of  Gilbert 
Talbot.  Of  the  three  sons,  the  eldest,  Henry  Caven- 
dish, who  settled  later  at  Tutbury  Castle,  married  Lady 
Grace  Talbot ;  William  Cavendish,  who  wedded  suc- 
cessively Anne,  daughter  of  Henry  Kighley,  of  Kigh- 
ley,  and  Elizabeth,  daughter  of  Sir  Edward  Boughton, 
and  to  whom  his  adoring  mother  left  Chatsworth  ;  and 
Charles.  Frances  Cavendish  by  her  marriage  became 
the  ancestress  of  the  Earls  and  Dukes  of  Kingston,  and 
(through  a  female  heiress)  of  the  Earls  Manvers,  in- 
heritors of  the  Pierrepoint  property.  Her  brother 
Henry,  though  he  died  young,  was  the  ancestor  of  the 
Barons  Waterpark  ;  while  William,  duly  knighted  in 
time,  was  the  first  Earl  of  Devonshire  and  pro- 
genitor of  that  great  ducal  house.  Mary,  though  her 
husband  was  but  a  younger  son  of  the  Talbot  race, 
became  eventually  Countess  of  Shrewsbury  on  his 
unexpected  accession  to  the  title ;  while  Charles, 
besides  a  knighthood,  secured  as  bride  one  of  the  twin 
heiresses  of  the  Barony  of  Ogle,  by  which  means  the 
possessions  of  Welbeck  Abbey  and  other  great  estates 
were  insured   to  the  Cavendishes.     All  these   matters, 

'  The  Marquis  of  Dorset. 


THE   RED-HAIRED   GIRL  7 

however,  fafeJong  to  the  future.  The  present  was  all- 
important  to  the  welfare  of  Sir  William  and  his  lady. 
A  fast  growing  family  must  be  provided  for,  and 
scattered  estates  meant  waste  of  cost  and  labour.  The 
clear,  keen  eyes  of  the  newly-wedded  Bess  looked  far 
into  the  future.  She  did  not  care  for  the  notion  of 
separation  from  her  own  lands  and  the  unwieldy  busi- 
ness of  dealing  with  her  husband's  estates  in  different 
parts  of  the  South  of  England.  At  the  time  of  their 
marriage  he  had  sold  the  aforesaid  manors  in  Hertford- 
shire, Lincolnshire,  Cardigan,  and  Cornwall,  in  favour 
of  others  in  Derbyshire,  Nottingham,  and  Stafford. 
The  county  instinct  of  his  wife  asserted  itself.  Her 
heart  was  in  Derbyshire  where  her  own  dowry  was  con- 
centrated. She  desired  the  transfer  of  her  bridegroom's 
interests  and  property  thither.  Her  resolution  and  her 
vitality  naturally  carried  the  day,  and  Sir  William  sold 
all  the  rest  of  his  southern  estates  and  settled  with  her 
in  a  manor  which  had  originally  been  built  by  her  old 
county  friends  the  Leeches  (or  Leches)  of  Leech — 
Chatsworth. 

Gradually  her  great  hobby  asserted  itself — the  desire 
to  build — and  this  constructive  energy,  as  her  story 
will  show,  went  hand  in  hand  with  her  master  passion, 
the  love  of  power  and  possession,  to  the  end  of  her 
days.  The  mansion  of  the  Leeches  did  not  please  her. 
It  must  be  rebuilt  for  the  glory  of  the  Cavendishes. 
Her  knight  yielded  to  the  wish.  They  set  about  the 
work  quickly,  living  meanwhile,  one  supposes,  in  the 
original  mansion.  Hardwick  Hall,  it  will  be  remem- 
bered, was  not  yet  hers.  John  Hardwick,  her  father, 
had  passed  away  in  the  nineteenth  year  of  Henry  VIII. 
That  reign  was  at  an  end,  and  the  reign  of  Edward  VI 


8  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

drawing  to  its  close.  Hardwick  House  *^  eventually 
became  the  portion  of  the  red-haired  daughter,  some 
say  through  the  will  of  her  brother,  who  apparently 
died  without  heir.  But  for  the  moment  the  Cavendishes 
needed  a  fine  house  for  domesticity  on  a  large  scale  and 
old  Chatsworth  did  not  suffice  them.  Elizabeth  Caven- 
dish had  plenty  to  do  in  founding  her  family.  These 
were  great  and  busy  times  for  the  great  lady.  Shoulder 
to  shoulder  husband  and  wife  worked  at  their  build- 
ing, at  their  estate,  at  the  management  of  their  tenants, 
their  parks  and  palings,  their  farms  and  holdings.  The 
red-haired  girl  was  in  her  element  as  matron  and  comp- 
troller and  lady  bountiful.  Fortune  smiled  on  her 
enterprise,  and  when  the  crown  of  Edward  VI  descended 
to  Mary  of  England,  Sir  William  Cavendish  still  held 
securely  his  valuable  post  in  the  Exchequer. 

It  is  a  fine  English  picture  as  one  looks  upon  it,  this 
married  life  of  the  Cavendishes — knight  and  lady 
amongst  their  babies,  enlarging  their  county  circle, 
increasing  their  county  honours,  holding  intercourse 
with  Court  and  capital,  with  market  and  county  town. 

Here  is  a  letter  on  domestic  matters  from  Sir  William 
to  his  lady  showing  his  trust  in  her  management  of 
their  joint  aflfairs  : — 

"  To  Bess  Cavendish, 

"  My  Wife. 
"Good  Bess,  having  forgotten  to  write  in  my  letters 
that  you  should  pay  Otewelle  Alayne  eight  pounds 
for  certain  oats  that  we  have  bought  of  him  over  and 
above  twelve  that  I  have  paid  to  him  in  hand,  I  heartily 
pray  you  for  that  he  is  desirous  to  receive  the  rest  at 
London  to  pay  him  upon  the  sight  hereof     You  know 


THE   RED-HAIRED   GIRL  9 

my  store  and  therefore  I  have  appointed  him  to  have 
it  at  your  hands.  And  thus  fare  you  well.  From 
Chatsworth  the  Xlllth  of  April.  W.  C." 

And  here  is  a  characteristic  letter  from  his  good  lady 
during  her  absence  from  home  in  1552  to  her  man  of 
affairs,  in  which  she  soundly  takes  him  to  task  for 
discourtesy  to  her  "  sister  Jane,"  orders  beer  to  be 
brewed  against  her  own  return,  and  issues  commands 
for  building  and  repairs  : — 

"  Francis,  I  have  spoken  with  your  master  for  the 
deals  or  boards  that  you  wrote  to  me  of;  and  he 
is  content  that  you  shall  take  some  for  your  necessity 
by  the  appointment  of  Neusante,  so  that  you  take  such 
as  will  do  him  no  service  about  his  building  at  Chats- 
worth.  I  pray  you  look  well  to  all  things  at  Chatsworth 
till  my  aunt's  coming  home,  which  I  hope  shall  be 
shortly,  and  in  the  meantime  cause  Broushawe  to  look 
to  the  smithy  and  all  other  things  at  Penteridge.  Let 
the  weaver  make  beer  for  me  forthwith,  for  my  own 
drinking  and  your  master's  ;  and  see  that  I  have  good 
store  of  it,  for  if  I  lack  either  good  beer  or  good  char- 
coal or  wood  I  will  blame  nobody  so  much  as  I  will  do 
you.  Cause  the  floor  in  my  bedchamber  to  be  made 
even,  either  with  plaster,  clay,  or  lime  :  and  all  the 
windows  where  the  glass  is  broken  to  be  mended  :  and 
all  the  chambers  to  be  made  as  close  and  warm  as  you 
can.  I  hear  that  my  sister  Jane  cannot  have  things  that 
is  needful  for  her  to  have  amongst  you  :  If  it  be  true, 
you  lack  a  great  of  honesty  as  well  as  discretion  to  deny 
her  anything  that  she  hath  a  mind  to,  being  in  my 
house  ;  and  then  assure  yourself  I  cannot  like  it  to 
have  my  sister  so  used.     Like  as  I  would  not  have  any 


lo  BESS  OF   HARDWICK 

superfluity  or  waste  of  anything,  so  likewise  would 
I  have  her  to  have  that  which  is  needful  and  necessary. 
At  my  coming  home  I  shall  know  more,  and  then  I 
will  think  as  I  shall  have  cause.  1  would  have  you 
give  to  my  midwife  from  me,  and  from  my  boy  Willie 
and  to  my  nurse  from  me  and  my  boy,  as  hereafter 
followeth  :  first  to  the  midwife  from  me  ten  shillings, 
and  from  Willie  five  shillings  :  to  the  nurse  from  me 
five  shillings,  and  from  my  boy  three  shillings  and  four 
pence  :  so  that  in  the  whole  you  must  give  to  them 
twenty-three  shillings  and  four  pence.  Make  my 
sister  privy  to  it,  and  then  pay  it  to  them  forthwith.  If 
you  have  no  other  money,  take  so  much  of  the  rent  at 
Penteridge.  Tell  my  sister  Jane  that  1  will  give  my 
daughter  something  at  my  coming  home  :  and  praying 
you  not  to  fail  to  see  all  things  done  accordingly,  I  bid 
you  farewell.  From  London  the  14th  of  November. 
"  Your  Mistress, 

"Elizabeth  Cavendish. 

"Tell  James  Crompe  that  I  have  received  the  five 
pounds  and  nine  shillings  that  he  sent  me  by  Hugh 
Alsope. 

"  to  my  servant  Francis  Whitfield, 
give  this  at  Chatsworth." 


# 


CHAPTER    11 

THE    MISTRESS    BUILDER 

T  TPON  this  scene  of  household  importance  and 
intimate  family  life,  making,  if  not  for  happiness 
in  the  fullest  sense  of  the  word,  at  any  rate  for  pros- 
perity and  success,  fell  for  a  second  time  upon  the 
married  life  of  Bess  Hardwick  the  great  shadow.  Sir 
William  Cavendish,  so  accomplished  in  business,  so 
doughty  a  husband,  so  excellent  a  host,  died  in  1557. 
His  wife  made  a  note  of  the  event  in  her  own  hand  : — 

"  Memorandum,  that  Sir  William  Cavendish,  Knight, 
my  most  dear  and  well  beloved  husband,  departed  this 
present  life  on  Monday,  being  the  25th  day  of  October, 
betwixt  the  hours  of  8  and  9  of  the  same  day  at 
Night,  in  the  year  of  our  Lord  God  1557,  the  dominical 
Letter  then  C.  On  whose  soul  I  most  humbly  be- 
seech the  Lord  to  have  mercy,  and  to  rid  me  and 
his    poor  children  out  of  our  great  misery. 

"Elizabeth   Cavendish." 

This  was  probably  the  greatest  grief  of  her  life,  and 
all  her  after  energies  were  spent  in  furthering  the 
welfare  of  her  Cavendish  children. 

Now  followed  a  period  of  widowhood,  during  which 
no  substantial  or  interesting  episodes  bring  the  lady's 
name  to  the  front.  But  she  did  not  lose  her  hold  over 
society  and  the  Court.     Nor  did  she  lay  aside  her  wise, 

II 


12  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

worldly  habits.  She  was  still  the  grand  dame — dis- 
penser of  charities,  recipient  of  Court  letters,  mistress 
of  masons  and  woodmen  and  grooms,  resting  securely 
upon  her  hoard  like  the  dragon  in  German  legend, 
assuring  herself  and  the  world,  "  I  lie  and  possess,  and 
would  slumber."  But  hers  was  not  the  nature  to  be 
quiescent  very  long.  And  she  had  incentive  enough 
to  action.  She  had  six  children  to  further  in  the 
world.  Daughters  must  be  married,  sons  must  be 
brought  into  the  charmed  circle  of  the  Queen,  to  run 
the  gauntlet  of  suspicions,  favours,  and  coldnesses  from 
her  and  bear  the  jealousy  and  competition  of  others 
till  the  right  opportunity  came  for  advancement.  More- 
over, there  was  Chatsworth  to  complete — alone.  At 
thirty-seven,  gifted  with  excellent  good  looks,  an  in- 
domitable will,  and  a  constitution  robust  and  healthy, 
it  was  not  the  moment  for  such  a  woman  to  permit 
either  her  schemes  or  her  zest  in  life  to  collapse.  So 
she  keeps  to  her  road,  moving  no  doubt  daily  between 
the  old  Chatsworth  and  the  new,  the  beloved  fabric 
which  for  her  was  at  once  the  mausoleum  of  her  greatest 
happiness,  the  eloquent  witness  of  her  aspirations 
for  her  children,  and  a  lasting  memorial  of  her  Caven- 
dish ambitions.  So  one  beholds  her  working  onward, 
building  for  the  future,  impatient  no  doubt  of  the 
present.  Fully  accustomed  now  to  take  command  of 
her  life  and  affairs,  she  controls  every  item  of  the 
building  of  her  new  house.  One  can  picture  her  easily 
enough  walking  or  driving  to  and  fro,  while  she  issues 
commands  for  the  felling  of  wood,  signs  orders  for  the 
selling  of  coals  and  stone,  for  the  transplantation  of 
trees,  the  manufacture  of  hangings,  the  transport  of 
Derbyshire    marbles,   the   employment   of  artificers    in 


THE   MISTRESS   BUILDER  13 

mosaic,  and  plaster  and  wood.  She  had  built  six 
Cavendishes,  bone  of  her  bone,  flesh  of  her  flesh,  and 
now  she  was  building  a  great  and  perfect  house  for 
them  and  theirs.  In  it  she  would  reign,  so  long  as 
she  lived,  supreme.  One  pictures  her  again  and  again 
— a  vigorous,  vital  woman,  in  proper  and  dignified 
weeds,  with  shrewd  and  genial  face  in  which  the  lines 
of  intrigue  and  sorrow  had  not  yet  deepened,  moving 
amongst  her  army  of  workmen,  fully  conscious  of  the 
country  life  about  her,  though  possibly  not  playing  for 
a  while  a  very  active  part  in  it.  But  the  old  zest  of 
living,  the  old  desire  of  the  world,  the  joys  of  which 
she  had  tasted  only  at  brief  intervals  during  the  baby- 
hood of  her  six  children,  were  ineradicable.  She  had 
acres  and  gold,  she  needed  a  helpmeet  more  than  many 
women.  No  country  gentleman  of  sufficient  import- 
ance presented  himself  for  whom  she  would  think  it 
worth  while  to  give  up  the  pretty  delight  of  being 
addressed  as  "  my  lady."  In  this  dilemma  Fate  brought 
her  face  to  face  with  Sir  William  St,  Lo. 

He  was  of  excellent  birth,  and,  like  her  second 
husband,  a  widower.  His  family  was,  of  course,  origin- 
ally Norman.  State  papers  show  that  a  Margaret  de 
St.  Low  or  Laudo  parted  with  certain  rights  in  Cornish 
property  in  the  reign  of  Henry  III.  By  the  seventeenth 
century  the  family  seems  to  have  concentrated  in 
Gloucestershire,  where  it  held  the  manor  of  Tormar- 
ton,  twenty-two  miles  south  of  the  county  town. 
"  Livery "  of  this  manor,  we  read,  was  granted  to 
William  St.  Loe  by  Elizabeth. 

William  and  his  brother  John  had  fought  bravely  in 
Ireland  against  Desmond.  In  1536  the  former — the 
family   name  is  spelt  variously   as   Seyntlow,  Seyntloe, 


14  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

and  Santclo — is  mentioned  in  despatches.  There  is  a 
vivid  glimpse  in  various  letters  of  an  attack  on  the 
castle  of  "  Carreke  Ogunell."  ^  Says  Lord  Leonard 
Grey,  writing  to  Henry  VIII  in  England,  "  It  was  taken 
by  assault  by  William  Seyntloe  and  his  men  before 
scaling  ladders  could  arrive."  But  the  writer  is  not 
quite  sure  if  the  success  was  due  to  "  hope  of  fame  or 
lack  of  victuals,  for  a  halfpenny  loaf  was  worth  I2d,,  but 
there  was  none  to  be  sold."  The  castle  has  marble  walls 
thirteen  feet  thick.  It  is  the  strongest  Lord  Leonard 
has  ever  seen.  An  Englishman  could  take  it  at  a  rush, 
in  spite  of  the  fact  that  besides  being  set  in  a  fine  moat, 
"  in  an  island  of  fresh  water,"  the  place  was  guarded 
with  watch  towers  of  hewn  marble.  But  Lord  Leonard 
does  not  think  that  any  Irishman  could  have  built  it ! 

Later  there  is  mutiny  and  rumour  of  sore  disruption 
in  the  English-Irish  army.  Young  Captain  St.  Loe's 
men  forgather  with  discontented  spirits,  and  the  whole 
of  his  stalwart  retinue  of  three  hundred,  "  men  of  high 
courage  and  activity,"  revolts  so  badly  that,  though  he 
and  his  captains  are  cleared  of  all  blame,  it  is  necessary 
to  "  bend  the  ordnance  "  on  the  mutineers  and  proceed 
against  them  in  "  battle  array."  Little  wonder  that  the 
men,  henchmen  and  yeomen,  doubtless,  of  Gloucester- 
shire, hated  the  campaign.  Even  Lord  Leonard  himself 
shared  the  destitution  of  the  privates  and  was  pinched 
for  the  lack  of  a  loaf  "  And  so,"  he  goes  on  after  his 
comment  on  the  price  of  bread,  "  I  among  others  lay  in 
my  harness,  without  any  bed,  almost  famished  with 
hunger,  wet,  and  cold." 

Fortune  and  personality  carried  William  St.  Loc  on- 
ward.    In  the  forties  of  the  sixteenth  century  he  appears 

»  State  MS. 


THE   MISTRESS  BUILDER  15 

as  seneschal  of  Waterford,  and  complains  bitterly  of  the 
way  in  which  he  is  hampered  in  office  by  the  Lord 
Chancellor  in  Ireland.  The  contention  of  his  official 
companions,  however,  as  given  in  a  letter  to  the  Court, 
describes  him  as  "a  good  warrior,  but  unfit  to  administer 
justice."  Military  disorder  is  stated  to  be  the  result, 
and  if  the  complainants  only  "  had  the  disposal  of  the 
farms  Seyntlow  now  has  "  things  would  be  very  different. 
It  is  suggested  that  he  is  turning  into  a  regular  free- 
booter. .  .  .  And  so  on. 

However  this  may  be,  we  find  the  gentleman  in  1557 
not  only  safely  established  in  England,  but  holding  im- 
portant Court  posts  with  high-sounding  titles.  He  is 
at  once  Grand  Butler  of  England  and  captain  of  the 
Queen's  Guard.  In  these  capacities  Bess  Hardwick,  as 
Lady  Cavendish,  must  have  already  met  him.  Had  she 
not  married  him  and  had  he  lived  long  enough,  she 
might  have  been  committed  to  his  tender  mercies  and 
guardianship  in  a  very  different  sense.  But  at  present 
her  genius  for  intrigue  only  threw  her  into  the  ap- 
parently pleasant  fetters  of  marriage.  This  "  Grand 
Botelier,"  this  dashing  swashbuckler  who  now  rode  at 
the  head  of  the  royal  guards,  and  was  in  constant  touch 
with  the  governor  of  the  Tower,  with  the  interior  of 
which  building  she  made  acquaintance  later,  took  her  as 
his  second  wife.  The  whole  thing  seems  to  have  been 
most  amicable,  affectionate,  and  excellent — amicable  and 
affectionate  on  his  part,  excellent  from  her  point  of  view. 
It  did  not  interfere  with  his  important  duties  ;  it  did 
not  necessarily  nail  her  to  the  Court.  Above  all,  it  did 
not  interfere  with  her  building.  Indeed,  it  gave  her  the 
more  heart  to  it  because  the  good  captain  would  now 
assume    by    her    side   the   duties    of  Derbyshire  host. 


i6  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

Moreover,  he  could  help  her  materially  in  her  building. 
She  did  not  need  his  advice  about  architecture  of  course. 
But  she  saw  that  she  could  draw  under  her  hand  the 
dues  of  his  manor  in  Gloucestershire  for  the  glory  of 
the  Cavendishes  and  the  surer  foundation  of  her  own 
comfort.  The  fine  dashing  soldier  had  children.  Yet 
this  was  no  serious  block  in  her  way.  She  might 
arrange  it  all,  while  leaving  them  not  destitute  but 
dependent  on  her  wise  financial  dispositions.  The  mar- 
riage was  duly  solemnised  and  gave  satisfaction.  The 
Queen  approved  of  my  Lady  St.  Loe,  and  the  more  so 
because  the  latter  did  not  wish  to  monopolise  her  bride- 
groom. There  was  enough  at  the  Derbyshire  estate  to 
amuse  her,  and  Sir  William's  letters  to  her  kept  her 
advised  of  things  "  about "  the  Queen's  Majesty.  Scot- 
tish affairs  were  brewing  hotly.  Elizabeth  was  but 
newly  a  queen.  There  were  processions  and  enact- 
ments, enquiries,  and  excursions  at  Court.  Bess  Hard- 
wick  held  the  post  of  Lady  of  the  Bedchamber,  and 
naturally  took  the  keenest  interest  in  all  that  went  on. 
Except  through  letters,  reliable  news  did  not  filter  at 
all  to  the  wilds  of  the  Peak  and  its  lovely  dales.  But 
Sir  William  loved  her  and  appreciated  her  deeply.  In 
his  affectionate  letters  he  identifies  her  quaintly  and 
sweetly  with  her  house.  "  My  honest,  sweet  Chates- 
worth "  is  one  of  the  expressions.  Elsewhere  she  is 
"  My  own,  more  dearer  to  me  than  I  am  to  myself," 
and  in  another  letter  he  has  seized  her  enthusiasm  for 
management  and  construction,  for  he  calls  her  "  My  own 
good  servant  and  chief  overseer." 

Occasionally  Bess  wanted  her  "grand  hotelier"  to 
herself,  and  it  must  have  been  hard  for  Sir  William  to 
tear  himself  away  from  the  rich   security  and  ease  of 


Photo  by  KLluii-d  AV.v.',-,   Ltd.,   Lerby,/roin  the  pictu'e  at  Hardivick  Hr.ll 
By  permission  of  liis  Grace  the  Duke  of  Devonshire 


SIR   WILLIAM   ST.    LOE 


Page  i6 


THE   MISTRESS   BUILDER  17 

the  house.    One  of  his  letters  from  Court  shows  that  he 
is  in  trouble  with  his  Queen  for  delayed  return. 

"  She  hath  found  great  fault  with  my  long  absence, 
saying  she  would  talk  with  me  farther  and  that  she  would 
well  chide  me.  Whereunto  I  answered,  that  when  her 
highness  understood  the  truth  and  the  cause  she  would 
not  be  offended.  Whereunto  she  says,  *  Very  well,  very 
well ' ;  howbeit,  hand  of  hers  I  did  not  kisse." 

A  portrait  which  hangs  in  the  great  gallery  at  Hard- 
wick  shows  the  writer  of  the  following  letters  (quoted  in 
Hunter's  Hallamshire)  in  his  habit  as  he  lived — a  kindly 
fellow,  but  at  this  period  not  a  man  of  power. 

^ir  William  Saint-hoe  to  Lady  Saint-hoe. 

"  My  own,  more  dearer  to  me  than  I  am  to  myself, 
thou  shalt  understand  that  it  is  no  small  fear  nor  grief 
unto  me  of  thy  well  doing  that  I  should  presently  see 
what  I  do,  not  only  for  that  my  continual  nightly  dreams 
beside  my  absence  hath  troubled  me,  but  also  chiefly  for 
that  Hugh  Alsope  cannot  satisfy  me  in  what  estate  thou 
nor  thine  is,  whom  I  regard  more  than  1  do  William 
Seyntlo.  Therefore  I  pray  thee,  as  thou  dost  love  me, 
let  me  shortly  hear  from  thee,  for  the  quieting  of  my 
unquieted  mind,  how  thine  own  sweet  self  with  all  thine 
doeth  ;  trusting  shortly  to  be  amongst  you.  All  thy 
friends  here  saluteth  thee.  Harry  Skipwith  desired  me 
to  make  thee  and  no  other  privy  that  he  is  sure  of  mis- 
tress Nell,  with  whom  he  is  by  this  time.  He  hath  sent 
ten  thousand  thanks  unto  thyself  for  the  same  :  she  hath 
opened  all  things  unto  him.  To-morrow  Sir  Richard 
Sackville  and  1  ride  to  London  together  ;  on  Saturday 
next  we  return  hither  again.     The  queen  yesterday,  her 


1 8  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

own  self  riding  upon  the  way,  craved  my  horse  ;  unto 
whom  I  gave  him,  receiving  openly  for  the  same  many 
goodly  words.  Thus  wishing  myself  with  thyself,  I  bid 
thee,  my  own  good  servant  and  chief  overseer  of  my 
works,  most  heartily  farewell  :  by  thine  who  is  wholly 
and  only  thine,  yea  and  for  all  thine  while  life  lasteth. 
From  Windsor  the  fourth  of  September  by  thy  right 
worshipful  master  and  most  honest  husband  master  Sir 

"William  Seyntlo,  esquire. 

"  Commend  me  to  my  mother  and  to  all  my  brothers 
and  sisters,  not  forgetting  Frank  with  the  rest  of  my 
children  and  thine.  The  Amnar^  saluteth  thee  and 
sayeth  no  gentleman's  children  in  England  shall  be 
better  welcome  nor  better  looked  unto  than  our  boys. 
Once  again,  farewell  good  honest  sweet. 

"  Myself  or  Greyves  shall  be  the  next  messenger. 

"  To  my  own  dear  wife  at 

Chatsworth  deliver  this." 

Sir  IVilliam  Saint- Loe  to  Lady  Saint  hoe. 

"  My  hap  is  evil,  my  time  worse  spent  ;  for  that 
my  reward  as  yet  is  nothing  more  than  fair  words  with 
the  like  promises.  Take  all  in  good  part ;  and  if  I 
should  understand  the  contrary,  it  would  trouble  me 
more  than  my  pen  shall  express.  I  have  leave  to  come 
and  wait  upon  thee,  I  and  my  brother  Clement,  with  two 
or  three  good  fellows  more :  [we]  had  been  with  thee  by 

this  day  if  it  had  not  been  for  our matter,  the  which 

I  will  not  leave  over  rawly.  1  will  forbear  the  answering 
of  all  particularities  in  thy  last  letter  written  unto  me, 
for    that    God   willing   1   will    this    next   week    be   the 

*  ?  Almoner. 


THE   MISTRESS   BUILDER  19 

messenger  myself.  Master  Man  came  home  the  night 
before  the  date  hereof.  He  putteth  me  in  great  hope  of 
the  matter  you  know  of.  Thus  trusting  that  God  pro- 
videth  for  us  all  things  for  the  best,  I  end  ;  committing 
thee  and  all  thine  which  are  mine  unto  his  blessed  will 
and  ordinance.  Farewell,  my  own  sweet  Bess.  From 
Master  Man's  house  in  Redcross  Street,  the  12th  of 
October,  by  him  who  dareth  not  so  near  his  coming 
home  to  term  thee  as  thou  art :  yet  thine 

"  William  Senytlo. 

"  My  cousin  Clarke  saluteth  thee,  who  was  by  me  at 
the  writing  hereof. 

"  To  my  own  good  wife  at 
Chatsworth  deliver  this." 

In  this  letter  he  complains  of  the  heavy  charge  for  his 
hired  Court  apparel. 

Sir  JVilliam  Saint-Loe  to  Lady  Saint-Loe. 

"  My  honest  sweet  Chatsworth  :  I  like  the  weekly 
price  of  my  hired  court  stuff  so  evil  that  upon  Thursday 
next  1  will  send  it  home  again,  at  which  day  the  week 
endeth.  I  pray  you  cause  such  stuff  as  Mowsall  left 
packed  in  a  sheet  to  be  brought  hither  by  the  next  car- 
rier :  there  be  hand  towels  and  other  things  therein  that 
I  must  occupy  when  I  shall  lie  at  Whitehall.  My  men 
hath  neither  shirt  nor  any  other  thing  to  shift  them 
until  that  come.  Trust  none  of  your  men  to  ride  any 
[of]  your  housed  horses,  but  only  James  Cromp  or 
William  Marchington  ;  but  neither  of  them  without 
good  cause  serve  speedily  to  be  done.  For  nags  there 
be  enough  about  the  house  to  serve  other  purposes. 
One  handful  of  oats  to  every  one  of  the  geldings  at  a 


20  BESS  OF   HARDWICK 

watering  will  be  sufficient  so  they  be  not  laboured.  You 
must  cause  some[one]  to  oversee  the  horsekeeper  for 
that  he  is  very  well  learned  in  loitering. 

"The  Queen  hath  found  great  fault  with  my  long 
absence  saying  that  she  would  talk  with  me  farther,  and 
that  she  would  well  chide  me.  Whereunto  I  answered 
that  when  her  highness  understood  the  truth  and  the 
cause  she  would  not  be  offended.  Whereunto  she  said 
*  Very  well,  very  well.'  Howbeit  hand  of  hers  I  did 
not  kisse. 

"  The  Lord  Keeper  hath  promised  me  faithfully  to  be 
at  both  days*  hearing  ;  and  that  if  either  law  or  con- 
science be  on  my  side  I  shall  have  it  to  my  contentment. 
Vaughan  is  come  unto  town,  but  not  yet  Bagott.  Stevens 
and  we  shall  go  through  on  Friday  night  next,  at  which 
time  his  brother  will  be  here,  who  hath  disbursed  seven 
hundred  of  the  twelve  hundred  pounds.  I  have  an 
extreme  pain  in  my  teeth  since  Sunday  dinner.  Thus 
with  aching  teeth  I  end,  praying  the  living  [God]  to 
preserve  thee  and  all  thine.  Written  at  London,  against 
my  will  where  I  am  if  other  ways  our  matters  might 
well  be  ended,  this  24th  of  October  : 

"  Your  loving  husband  with  aching  heart  until  we  meet, 

**  William  Sevntlo. 

**  If  you  think  good,  lease  your  fishing  in  Dove  unto 
Agard.    We  are  the  losers  of  suffering  it  as  we  have  done. 
"  To  my  loving  wife  at  Chatsworth 

give  this  with  speed." 

This  next  letter  is  from  Sir  George  Pierrepoint  in 
gratitude  of  her  kindly  offices.  His  family  was  after- 
wards closely  connected  with  that  of  Bess  of  Hardwick, 
for  her  eldest  daughter  married  Sir  Henry  Pierrepoint. 


THE    MISTRESS   BUILDER  21 

Sir  George  Pierrepoint  to  Lady  Saint-Loe. 

"  Right  worshipful  and  very  good  Lady  :  after  my 
heartiest  manner  I  commend  me  to  your  Ladyship  : 
even  so  pray  you  I  may  be  to  good  Mr.  Seyntloe  : 
most  heartily  thanking  you  both  for  your  great  pains 
taken  with  me  at  Holme,  accepting  everything  (though  it 
were  never  so  rudely  handled)  in  such  gentle  way  as  you 
did  ;  which  doth  and  will  cause  me  to  love  you  the 
better  while  I  live  if  I  were  able  to  do  you  other 
pleasure  or  service  ;  and  the  rather  because  I  understand 
your  Ladyship  hath  not  forgotten  my  suit  to  you  at  your 
going  away  as  specially  to  make  Mr.  Sackville  and  Mr. 
Attorney  my  friends  in  the  matter  between  Mr.  Whalley 
and  me,  wherein  he  doeth  me  plain  wrong  (as  1  take  it 
is  my  conscience)  only  to  reap  trouble  and  unquiet  me. 
But  I  trust  so  much  in  God's  help,  and  partly  by  your 
Ladyship's  good  means,  and  continuance  of  your  good- 
ness towards  me,  that  he  shall  not  overthrow  me  in  my 
righteous  cause.  And  touching  such  communication  as 
was  between  us  as  at  Holme,  if  your  Ladyship  and  the 
gentlewoman  your  daughter  like  or  be  upon  sight  as 
well  as  I  and  my  wife  like  the  young  gentlewoman,  I 
will  not  shrink  from  it  I  said  or  promised  ;  by  the  grace 
of  God  who  preserve  your  Ladyship  and  my  Master 
your  husband  long  together  in  wealth,  health  and  pros- 
perity to  his  pleasure,  and  your  gentle  heart's  desire. 
From  my  poor  house  at  Woodhouse  the  4th  of  Novem- 
ber 1 56 1,  by  the  rude  lusty  hands  of  your  good  Lady- 
ship's assuredly  always  to  command. 

"  George  Pierrepoint. 

"To  the  right  worshipful  and  my 

singular  good  Lady,  my  Lady 

Sentloo  at  London  this  be  delivered." 


22  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

This  other  letter  is  highly  typical  for  the  good  lady's 
literary  style  and  her  attitude  towards  her  employees. 
It  is  to  James  Crompe,  her  man  of  affairs. 

"  Crompe,  I  do  understand  by  your  letters  that 
Wortly  saith  he  will  depart  at  our  Ladyday  next.  I 
will  that  you  shall  have  him  bound  in  an  obligation  to 
avoid^  at  the  same  day,  for  sure  I  will  trust  no  more  to 
his  promise.  And  when  he  doth  tell  you  that  he  is  any 
penny  behind  for  work  done  to  Mr.  Cavendish  or  me, 
he  doth  lie  like  a  false  knave  :  for  I  am  most  sure  he  did 
never  make  anything  for  me  but  two  vanes  to  stand 
upon  the  house.  I  do  very  well  like  your  sending 
sawyers  to  Pentrege  and  Medoplecke,  for  that  will 
further  my  works :  and  so  I  pray  you  in  any  other  thing 
that  will  be  a  help  to  my  building,  let  it  be  done.  And 
for  Thomas  Mason,  if  you  can  hear  where  he  is,  I  would 
very  gladly  he  were  at  Chatsworth.  I  will  let  you  know 
by  my  next  letter  what  work  Thomas  Mason  shall  begin 
at  first,  when  he  doth  come.  And  as  for  the  other 
mason  which  Sir  James  told  you  of,  if  he  will  not  apply 
his  work,  you  know  that  he  is  not  the  man  for  me  ;  and 
the  mason's  work  which  I  have  to  do  is  not  much,  and 
Thomas  Mason  will  very  well  oversee  that  work.  I 
perceive  Sir  James  is  much  misliked  for  his  religion  ; 
but  I  think  his  wisdom  is  such  that  he  will  make  small 
account  of  that  matter.  1  would  have  you  tell  my  aunt 
Lenecker  that  I  would  have  the  little  garden  which  is  by 
the  new  house  made  a  garden  this  year.  I  care  not 
whether  she  bestow  any  great  cost  thereof;  but  to  sow 
it  with  all  kinds  of  herbs  and  flowers  and  some  pieces  of 
it  with  mallows.     I  have  sent  you  by  this  carrier  three 

^  Avoid  =  clear  out. 


THE   MISTRESS   BUILDER  23 

bundles  of  garden  seeds  all  written  with  William  March- 
ington's  hand  ;  and  by  the  next  you  shall  know  how  to 
use  them  in  every  point. 

"  From  the  Court  the  8th  of  March, 

"  Your  mistress, 

"  E.  Seyntlo." 

The  "Aunt  Lenecker"  (more  correctly  known  as 
Lynacre)  was  a  Leake  and  sister  of  Lady  St.  Loe's 
mother.  She  seems  to  have  lived  for  some  years  with  her 
niece,  possibly  since  her  first  widowhood. 

Nothing  very  exciting  happened  to  the  St.  Loe  couple 
in  their  short  married  life.  When  not  at  Court  they  paid 
visits,  were  entertained,  or  entertained  their  own  vistors, 
as  scraps  of  correspondence  show.  They  must  have  had 
traffic  already  with  the  great  family  of  Talbot — which, 
besides  Sheffield  Castle,  owned  so  many  large  seats  in 
Derby  and  Nottingham — and  both  of  them  naturally 
held  intercourse  with  "  Mr.  Secretary  Walsingham " 
and  "  Mr.  Treasurer  Cecil." 

When  Sir  William  St.  Loe  died — tolerably  soon,  alas  ! 
— Bess  Hardwick  had  gone  far  with  her  building,  social 
and  actual.  Her  third  widowhood  found  her  richer, 
bolder,  better  known  at  Court,  and  able  to  play  her 
part  in  an  ever-widening  circle  of  the  powerful  and 
prosperous. 

Such  a  lady  would  naturally  make  enemies.  In  1567 
she  was  slandered  by  Henry  Jackson,  an  ex-scholar  of 
Merton  College,  Oxford,  the  tutor  of  her  children. 
Instantly  the  matter  went  to  the  Council,  and  the 
Council  wrote  in  September  to  the  Archbishop  of 
Canterbury.  "  Lady  St.  Loo,  widow,  having  retained 
as  schoolmaster  Henry  Jackson  ...  is  disturbed  by 
scandalous  reports   raised   against   her  family  by  him  ; 


24  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

you  are  to  examine  the  matter  thoroughly  and  speedily 
with  the  assistance  of  the  Solicitor-General  Mr.  Oseley 
and  Mr.  Peter  Osborne  or  other  Ecclesiastical  Commis- 
sioners, that  the  lady's  good  name  may  be  preserved  ; 
if  he  has  unjustly  defamed  her  he  is  to  be  severely 
punished,"  runs  the  digest  of  the  draft  in  the  State  MS. 
And  immediately  upon  the  conclusion  of  the  exami- 
nation the  Queen  herself  intervenes  on  behalf  of 
the  lady  "  who  has  long  served  with  credit  in  our 
Court,"  and  forthwith  she  commands  the  punishment 
of  the  wicked  clerk  :  "  extreme  punishment,  corporal  or 
otherwise,  openly  or  private,  and  that  speedily." 

Besides  the  danger  of  slander  there  was  the  trap  ot 
intrigue.  Up  to  the  present  Bess  Hardwick  had  kept 
clear  of  mischief,  but,  native  curiosity  apart,  she  could 
not,  as  Lady  of  the  Bedchamber,  help  being  often  the 
recipient  of  the  secrets  of  her  friends.  The  romantic 
love  story  of  Lady  Catherine  Grey,  who  held  a  similar 
Court  post  to  herself,  brought  her  into  a  tight  place. 
For  the  benefit  of  those  who  do  not  recall  the  tale  it 
shall  be  set  forth  again  here. 

The  Lady  Catherine  was  the  sister  of  Lady  Jane 
Grey.  By  a  curious  combination  of  circumstances — the 
exclusion  given  by  the  will  of  Henry  VIII  to  the  pos- 
terity of  Margaret  of  Scotland,  the  publication  of  the 
will  of  Edward  VI,  and  the  non-repeal  of  certain  Acts 
of  Parliament — it  was  judged  that  the  right  to  the 
crown  rested  with  the  House  of  Suffolk.  To  this  great 
house  Lady  Catherine  was  the  heir.  She  was  formally 
contracted  in  extreme  youth  to  Lord  Herbert,  the  son 
of  the  Earl  of  Pembroke.  But  the  wise  Earl,  in  dread 
of  the  acute  complications  which  such  a  marriage  might 
entail,  arranged  for  a  divQrcc.     This  probably  affected 


THE   MISTRESS  BUILDER    .  25 

the  lady  but  little.  She  was  young,  she  was  attractive 
and  romantic,  she  could  meet  cavaliers  enough  and  to 
spare  in  the  immediate  circle  of  the  Queen.  But,  as 
all  the  world  knows,  her  Majesty,  while  she  kept 
a  dozen  men  languishing  about  her,  was  very  loth  to 
have  any  of  her  ladies  wed.  Love  affairs  must  be 
very  secret,  lest  the  parties  incurred  her  disfavour  and 
the  loss  of  benefits.  As  for  Lady  Catherine,  her  birth, 
as  has  been  shown,  rendered  her  a  mark  for  all  manner 
of  suspicion.  At  Court  she  was  the  close  companion 
of  Lady  Jane  Seymour,  daughter  of  the  Duke  of  Somer- 
set. This  Lady  Jane  had  a  brother,  no  less  than  the 
Earl  of  Hertford.  What  more  inevitable  than  a  love  affair 
between  him  and  Catherine  ?  There  were  sorrows  enough 
in  the  background  of  her  history,  slavery  enough — 
despite  pageant  and  hunting  and  the  comings  and  goings 
of  great  persons  from  foreign  courts — to  endure  at  the 
hands  of  the  energetic,  alert,  excitable,  witty,  jealous 
royal  mistress.  Little  by  little  the  love  story  wove  itself 
in  the  manner  of  every  love  tale.  A  community  of  in- 
terest, a  series  of  assemblies  which  passed  in  array 
her  Majesty's  ladies  before  the  eyes  of  her  gentlemen, 
little  incidents  which  brought  out  the  personalities  of 
the  two,  mere  propinquity,  a  look  here  and  a  word  there, 
did  their  work.  The  two  were  soon  secretly  plighted, 
with  the  Lady  Jane  to  share  and  shield  their  dear  secret. 
Many  anxious  moments  must  have  gone  to  their 
councils.  To  declare  their  troth  would  only  be  a  signal 
for  their  instant  separation.  The  same  result  would 
arise  if  they  humbly  asked  the  royal  permission  to  be 
betrothed.  To  marry  and  fly  would  only  savour  of 
deep  State  conspiracy.  To  marry  and  bide  quietly  and 
then  face  the  astonished  and  scandalous  world  with  an 


26         ,  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

air  of  "  Indeed,  and  it  is  true.  So  part  us  you  shall 
not.  And,  moreover,  'tis  our  affair.  Wherefore,  fling 
your  mud  elsewhere  !  "  seemed  the  wisest  way  in  the 
end,  and  also  followed  the  line  of  least  resistance. 

One  morning — surely  as  crisp  and  heartening  a  day 
as  could  be  desired  for  such  a  purpose — the  Queen's 
Majesty  went  to  Eltham  in  Kent  to  hunt.  My  Lady 
Jane  and  my  Lady  Catherine  stayed  behind.  When  all 
was  quiet  they  left  the  Palace  (Westminster)  "  by  the 
stairs  at  the  orchard"  and  strolled  quietly  "along  the 
sands."  Those  sands  led  to  the  Earl  of  Hertford's 
house  in  "  Chanon  Row."  He  was  waiting  for  his 
lady  ;  he  did  not  even  leave  her  to  call  the  priest. 
That  was  the  Lady  Jane's  errand.  There  is  something 
very  delightful  about  this  incident,  and  the  steady 
chaperon's  part  undertaken  by  the  Earl's  sister.  The 
priest  came,  the  wedding  took  place.  After  the  brief 
ceremony  there  could  not  be  much  dalliance  or  en- 
tertainment. It  was  not  yet  the  time  to  give  the 
secret  to  the  world.  The  ladies  must  reach  the  Palace 
again  before  hue  and  cry  could  be  raised.  They  did 
not  go  back  by  "  the  sands,"  probably  because  the  tide 
had  risen.  They  went  back  by  boat.  The  Earl  did  not 
accompany  them.  But  he  led  his  bride  and  his  sister  to 
the  boat  which  waited  for  them  at  the  foot  of  the  water- 
stairs  of  his  house.  He  assisted  them  in — it  must  have 
been  very  hard  to  let  go  the  hand  of  the  woman  so 
newly  pledged  to  him — and  the  shallop  went  quietly  on 
its  way  and  delivered  its  fair  passengers  at  the  Palace 
stairs  without  exciting  comment.  A  little  later  the  two 
ladies  were  demurely  seated  at  dinner  "  in  Master 
Comptroller's  chamber."  Probably  neither  of  them 
played  that  evening  much  of  a  table  part. 


THE   MISTRESS   BUILDER,  27 

The  bride  was  left  to  bear  the  onus  of  the  affair. 
After  a  few  stolen  meetings  the  Earl  went  to  France. 
And  presently  the  world  began  to  point  and  stare.  The 
report  grew,  but  no  one  seemed  able  to  credit  it.  At 
the  close  of  August,  1561,  the  Earl's  mother  wrote  to 
Cecil  mentioning  the  rumour,  denying  all  knowledge  of 
it,  and  hoped  that  the  wilfulness  of  her  unruly  child, 
Hertford,  would  not  diminish  the  Queen's  favour.  On 
the  same  date  Sir  Edward  Warner,  Lieutenant  of  the 
Tower,  wrote  to  the  Queen  stating  that  he  had  ques- 
tioned Lady  Catherine  as  to  her  "  love  practices,"  but 
she  would  confess  nothing.  It  is  said  that  Lady  St.  Loe 
burst  into  tears  when  Lady  Catherine  made  confession 
to  her.  Probably  the  older  woman  knew  what  was  in 
store  for  them  both.  The  royal  warrant  to  Sir  Ed- 
ward Warner  not  only  required  him  to  "  examine  the 
Lady  Catherine  very  straightly  how  many  hath  been 
privy  to  love  between  her  and  the  Lord  of  Hertford 
from  the  beginning,"  but  continues  :  "  Ye  shall  also 
send  to  Alderman  Lodge,  secretly,  for  St.  Low  and  shall 
put  her  in  awe  of  divers  matters  confessed  by  the  Lady 
Catherine  ;  and  so  also  deal  with  her  that  she  may  con- 
fess to  you  all  her  knowledge  in  the  same  matters.  It 
is  certain  that  there  hath  been  great  practices  and  pur- 
poses ;  and  since  the  death  of  the  Lady  Jane^  she  hath 
been  most  privy.  And  as  ye  shall  see  occasion,  so  ye 
may  keep  St.  Low  two  or  three  nights,  more  or  less, 
and  let  her  be  returned  to  Lodge's  or  kept  still  with 
you,  as  ye  shall  think  meet." 

After  poor  Lady  Catherine  took  Lady  Loe  into  her 
confidence,  she  made  frantic  application  for  help  to 
Lord  Robert  Dudley — not  yet  Earl  of  Leicester — so 
1  Lady  Jane  Grey. 


28  t       BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

high  in  the  Queen's  good  graces.  In  this  there  is  sheer 
drama  as  well  as  pathos — this  confession  and  piteous 
appeal  from  the  young  and  comely  lady  of  quality, 
whose  only  fault  was  that  she  had  married  for  love, 
to  the  handsome,  pampered,  arrogant  cavalier,  the 
Queen's  darling.  Lady  Hertford  went  to  his  very 
chamber  in  Court  to  implore  him  to  stand  between  her 
parlous  state  as  prospective  mother  and  the  Queen's 
anger.  Yet  nothing  in  such  contingencies  could  divert 
Elizabeth's  fury,  or  make  her  act  in  a  humane 
fashion.  Lord  Hertford  was  summoned  to  England  to 
undergo  trial  with  his  wife,  and  very  soon  both  were 
committed  separately  to  the  Tower.  But  before  this 
could  be  done  the  farce  of  a  public  enquiry  had  to 
be  played.  A  commission  was  ordained,  pompously 
headed  by  no  less  a  person  than  Archbishop  Parker. 
The  accused  were  requested  to  produce,  within  a  given 
time,  witnesses  of  their  marriage.  That  they  failed  to 
do  this  is  extraordinary.  The  priest  seems  to  have 
disappeared,  and  Lady  Jane  Seymour  appeared  unable 
to  find  him  or  to  assist  in  furnishing  the  required  evi- 
dence. But  as  this  couple  could  not  satisfy  the  Com- 
mission in  time  they  were  sentenced  to  be  imprisoned 
during  the  Queen's  pleasure.  "  Displeasure  "  would  be 
the  correct  word.  For  Elizabeth  knew  little  but  vanity 
and  vexation  of  spirit  at  this  period.  The  very  word 
marriage  must  have  been  a  red  rag  to  her.  With  the 
strong  vitality  and  virility  of  her  father  warring  within 
her  against  the  heritage  of  the  feminine  instincts  of  her 
mother,  Anne  Boleyn,  with  countless  suitors  and  innu- 
merable flatterers  to  encourage  and  keep  at  bay 
alternately,  with  one  eye  fixed  on  Mary  of  Scotland  and 
another  on  the  "  devildoms  of  Spain,"  her  life  just  now 


THE  MISTRESS   BUILDER  «  29 

was  a  constant  turmoil.  Her  whole  entourage  was 
forced  to  share  in  it.  She  would  not  decide  upon  a 
consort  to  help  her  ;  she  belittled  the  estate  of  marriage 
one  day  and  dallied  with  it  the  next.  No  wonder  that 
poor  Mr.  Treasurer  Cecil  wrote  as  he  did  on  the  eve  of 
the  New  Year  of  1564.  Schemes  matrimonial  whirled 
round  him  like  the  winter  snow.  Elizabeth  was  being 
wooed  by  a  French  monarch  and  an  Austrian  Emperor 
at  the  same  moment ;  the  Lennox  family  and  Mary  of 
Scotland  were  working  to  achieve  the  marriage  of  the 
latter  with  Darnley,  and  the  Lady  Mary  Grey,  fired  no 
doubt  by  her  sister's  intrigue  and  sick  of  loneliness, 
had  actually  surreptitiously  married  John  Keys,  the 
Serjeant  Porter  to  the  Queen.  Meanwhile  the  Earl 
and  Countess  of  Hertford  were  in  the  Tower.  In 
addition,  the  Queen  was  putting  up  her  beloved 
Dudley,  now  Earl  of  Leicester,  to  oppose  Darnley  as  a 
possible  consort  for  Scottish  Mary.  Shrewd  old  Cecil 
shows,  however,  that  she  is  only  half-hearted  about  it : 
"  I  see  the  qn  M^y  very  desyroos  to  have  my  L.  of 
Lecester  placed  in  this  high  degree  to  be  the  Scottish 
Queen's  husband,  but  whan  it  commeth  to  the  conditions 
which  are  demanded  I  see  her  then  remiss  of  her 
earnestness."  ^ 

He  concludes  wearily  enough  : — 

"  This  also  I  see  in  the  Qn  Ma%  a  sufficient  contenta- 
tion  to  be  moved  to  marry  abrood,  and  if  it  is  so  may  [it] 
plese  Almighty  God,  to  leade  by  the  hand  some  mete 
person  to  come  and  lay  hand  on  her  to  her  contentation, 
I  cold  than  wish  my  self  more  helth  to  endure  my  yeres 
somewhat  longar  to  enjoye  such  a  world  here  as  I  trust 

1  State  MS. 


30  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

wold  follow  :    otherwise  I  assure  yow,  as  now  thyngs 
hang  in  desperation,  I  have  no  comfort  to  lyve." 

My  Lady  St.  Loe,  as  confidante,  was  forced  to  weather 
the  storm  and  endure  reprimand.  The  married  lovers, 
meanwhile,  dragged  out  their  days  in  durance.  Their 
son  was  born  in  the  Tower.  In  vain  they  languished, 
pined,  and  implored  the  intercession  of  friends.  In 
1562  the  Earl  was  allowed  a  litde  more  ease.  Hus- 
band and  wife  managed  to  meet  again.  Another  child 
was  born  to  them,  and  my  Lord  was  duly  fined  fifteen 
thousand  pounds  by  the  Star  Chamber,  for  this  event 
was  construed  into  a  new  State  offence.  In  1563  the 
dreaded  plague  caused  Elizabeth  to  remove  her  poor 
love-birds  from  the  Tower.  Lady  Catherine  went  to 
the  house  of  her  uncle.  Sir  John  Grey,  in  Essex,  and 
he  was  roused  to  uttermost  compassion  and  distress 
by  her  wretched  mental  and  physical  condition.  It 
was  in  mid-Lent  that  he  wrote  to  Cecil  emphatically 
and  ironically : — 

"  It  is  a  great  while  me  thinkethe.  Cousin  Cecile, 
since  I  sent  unto  you,  in  my  neices  behalf,  albeit  1 
knowe,  (opportunitie  so  scrvinge)  you  are  not  unmind- 
ful of  her  miserable  and  compfortlesse  estate.  For  who 
wantinge  the  Princes  favor,  maye  compt  himselfe  to 
live  in  any  Realme?  And  because  this  time  of  all  others 
hathe  ben  compted  a  time  of  mercie  and  forgevenes  I 
cannot  but  recommende  her  woefull  liffe  unto  you.  In 
faithe  I  wolde  I  were  the  Queen's  confessor  this  Lent, . 
that  I  might  joine  her  in  penaunce  to  forgive  and  forget; 
or  otherwise  able  to  steppe  into  the  pulpett  to  tell  her 
Highness,  that  God  will  not  forgive  her,  unleast  she 
frelye  forgeve  all  the  worlde." 


THE   MISTRESS   BUILDER     ^         31 

This  letter  is  worth  quoting  because  it  shows  the 
prevailing  attitude  of  the  Elizabethan  courtier.  No  one 
who  lacked  the  favour  of  the  sovereign  could  be  ac- 
counted as  one  living.  Lady  Catherine,  once  under 
that  heavy  cloud  of  disfavour,  never  emerged,  but  died 
broken  and  miserable  within  six  years  of  her  unhappy 
marriage.  Wherefore  Lady  St.  Loe  had  chance  enough 
to  learn  her  lesson,  and  was  fortunate  in  that  her  share 
of  the  affair  was  visited  only  by  a  cross-examination 
and  warning.  She  was  not  at  all  the  sort  of  woman  to 
brook  being  left  out  in  the  cold.  She  was  too  wise,  of 
course,  ever  to  have  engulfed  herself  in  a  marriage 
of  this  sort,  but  in  such  a  case,  had  she  not  managed  to 
divert  Elizabeth's  anger  by  some  master  stroke  of  wit 
and  diplomacy,  she  would  certainly  not  have  languished 
of  "  woofull  griefe  "  nor  starved  herself  to  death,  like 
Lady  Catherine,  for  sorrow. 

At  such  a  time  and  in  face  of  the  fresh  hubbub 
caused  at  Court  by  the  marriage  of  Lady  Mary  Grey 
("  an  unhappy  chance  and  monstruoos,"  comments  Cecil, 
in  a  letter  to  the  English  Ambassador  in  France),  the 
peace  and  security  of  Chatsworth  offered  themselves  as 
a  happy  refuge  against  all  complications.  There  is 
a  grotesque  humour  in  Cecil's  use  of  that  word  mon- 
strous, for  Lady  Mary  was  almost  a  dwarf,  and  Keys, 
whom  Cecil  calls  "  the  biggest  gentleman  in  this  Court," 
had  secured  his  post  of  Serjeant  Porter  owing  to  his 
magnificent  size  and  height.  He  was  twice  Lady 
Mary's  age,  and  was  a  widower  with  several  children. 
The  Queen  clapped  him  in  the  Fleet,  and  condemned 
Lady  Mary  to  confinement  in  the  houses  of  succes- 
sive friends.  The  pair  never  met  after  their  hasty 
wedding. 


32  BESS   OF  HARDWICK 

Thus,  on  all  sides,  Court  was  a  place  of  "  dispeace," 
while  in  Derbyshire  Lady  St.  Loe  had  good  neigh- 
bours, people  of  quality  and  substance,  and  was  safe 
within  her  parks  and  palings.  She  did  not  share 
her  royal  mistress's  distrust  of  matrimony,  for  she 
was  free  to  choose  her  next  lord,  and  there  was  no 
reason  why  she  should  remain  a  widow  longer  than 
she  could  help. 

It  is  not  to  be  suggested  for  a  moment  that  she  had 
no  suitors  and  that  she  was  not  the  subject  of  all  kinds 
of  matrimonial  gossip.  One  Fowler  (subsequently 
committed  to  the  Tower  in  connection  with  the  dis- 
covery of  suspicious  papers)  opines  in  his  "notes  "that 
"either  Lord  Darcy  or  Sir  John  Thynne  are  to  marry 
my  Lady  St.  Loe,  and  not  Harry  Cobham."  Doubtless 
the  Cobham  match  would  have  pleased  her  well,  and 
she  would  have  been  quite  in  her  element  in  the  place 
which  afforded  a  seat  and  a  surname  to  that  noble  and 
splendid  family  upon  whom  the  evil  days  of  Jacobean 
confiscation  and  the  betrayal  of  Sir  Walter  Raleigh  had 
not  yet  fallen.  A  sister  of  Lord  Cobham  was  married 
to  Mr.  Secretary  Cecil,  "  and  the  match  would  have 
been  advantageous,  but  possibly  my  Lady,  with  her 
deep  insight  into  character,  divined  that  the  gentleman 
was  not  of  the  steady  stuff  which  makes  for  worldly 
security."  Moreover  the  best  matches  are  by  no  means 
to  be  found  near  the  Court,  and  close  at  hand,  in  the 
same  county,  lived  one  greater  than  the  Cobhams,  a 
man  whom  many  a  maid  and  every  widow  would  be 
proud  to  espouse.  He  was  a  widower,  an  earl,  the 
owner  of  seven  seats,  bearer  of  a  high  government 
post,  and  he  came  of  a  long  line  of  distinguished 
soldiers.     Lady  St.  Loe  went  to  work  wisely.     She  had 


THE   MISTRESS   BUILDER  33 

the  assistance  of  her  dear  gossip  and  contemporary, 
Lady  Cobham.  No  one  could  have  acted  the  go-between 
more  discreetly.  Before  long  the  fashionable  world 
had  something  to  talk  about  in  the  announcement  of  the 
fourth  marriage  of  Bess  Hardwick. 


CHAPTER   III 


A    GREAT    GENTLEMAN 


**  I  ""HE  fourth  husband  of  "  Building  Bess "  was  no 
less  a  person  than  George  Talbot,  sixth  Earl  of 
Shrewsbury.  Though  the  name  does  not  appear  in  the 
great  roll  of  the  prominent  soldiers  at  the  battle  of 
Hastings,  the  first  Talbot — then  Talebot — of  whom 
anything  noteworthy  is  recorded,  won  the  first  title,  a 
barony,  for  his  family  at  the  close  of  the  career  of 
William  the  First.  Thenceforward  the  Talbots  march 
magnificently  through  the  history  of  England — great 
gentlemen,  castellans,  commanders,  governors,  judges, 
lords-lieutenant.  They  wielded  authority  in  Wales, 
fought  in  France,  Scotland,  Ireland,  Castile,  occasion- 
ally fell  under  suspicion  of  conspiracy,  and  emerged 
without  hurt.  Once  and  once  only  was  their  pride 
humbled  in  the  dust,  when  the  hitherto  invincible  tactics 
of  John  Talbot,  the  greatest  general  of  his  day,  the 
chief  glory  of  all  the  Talbots  before  and  since,  were 
overcome  by  the  generalship  of  the  Maid  of  Orleans. 
It  must  have  hit  the  great  general  very  hard  to  find 
himself  in  prison  on  French  soil  for  three  long  years  at 
the  hands  of  a  woman.  Neither  force  nor  strategy 
freed  him,  but  mere  money.  He  had  married  a  rich 
wife — heiress  to  all  "  Hallamshire,"'  including  the  castle 

^  According   to    Leland,   "  Halamshire   beginneth    a    ii.    mile   from 
Rotheram.     Sheffield    iii    miles    from    Rothcram,    wher    the    lord   of 

34 


«A   GREAT   GENTLEMAN"  35 

of  Sheffield.  In  1432  he  agreed  to  pay  a  large  ransom, 
and  hurried  back  to  England,  bursting  with  purpose 
and  revenge.  Instantly  he  raised  a  fresh  force,  rejoined 
the  English  army  in  France,  and  fought  with  such 
terrible  and  triumphant  results  that  his  name,  like  that 
of  Bonaparte,  figured  for  generations  as  a  bogy  with 
which  to  scare  fractious  children.  It  was  this  tre- 
mendous campaign  which  won  for  his  race  the  great 
earldom  of  Shrewsbury. 

George,  the  sixth  earl,  the  great  gentleman  now  dealt 
with,  inherited  all  the  administrative  qualities  of  his 
ancestors,  though  he  was  less  intimately  associated  with 
war  than  his  father  Francis.  It  was  well  also  that  his 
duties  should  have  been  to  a  greater  extent  civil  and 
defensive  than  military  and  aggressive.  For  he  had 
stepped  into  a  great  inheritance,  and  his  burdens,  as 
householder  and  county  magnate,  were  stupendous. 
The  manors  and  castles  of  Worksop,  Welbeck,  Bolsover, 
Sheffield,  Tutbury,  Wingfield,  and  Ruffi^rd  were  all  his. 
He  came  into  his  own  in  1560.  The  greatest  gift  he 
received  in  that  year  was  the  Garter  which  the  Queen 
bestowed  on  him.  Five  years  later  he  was  appointed 
Lord-Lieutenant  of  the  counties  of  York,  Nottingham, 
and  Derby.  Subsequently  the  post  of  High  Steward 
in  the  place  of  the  unhappy  fifth  Duke  of  Norfolk  was 

Shreusbyre's  castle,  the  chefe  market  towne  of  Halamshire.  And 
Halamshire  goeth  one  way  vi  or  vii  miles  above  Sheffield  by  west,  yet  as 
I  here  say,  another  way  the  next  village  to  Sheffield  is  in  Derbyshire. 
Al  Halamshire  go  to  the  seesions  of  York  and  is  counted  as  a  membre  of 
Yorkshire.  Aeglesfield  and  Bradfeld  ii  townelettes  or  villages  long  to 
one  paroche  chirche.  So  by  this  meanes  (as  I  was  enstructed)  ther  be 
but  iii  paroches  in  Halamshire  that  is  of  name,  and  a  great  Chapelle." 

Hunter  sums  up  these  three  parishes  as  Sheffield,  Ecclesfield,  and 
Hansworth,  with  the  chapelry  of  Bradfield. 


:i6  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

added  to  his  honours.     In  the  third  year  of  his  lieuten- 
ancy the  affair  with  Bess  Hardwick  was  in  full  swing. 

From  both  sides  it  was  a  reasonable  and  profitable 
alliance.  He  was  a  widower  with  sons  and  daughters 
who  needed  mothering.  Her  children  needed  a  father. 
There  was  wealth  enough  to  provide  for  all.  Yet 
possibly  family  dissensions  might  arise  amongst  the 
young  folk.  But  against  this  risk  my  lady  had  devised 
a  splendid  scheme  of  protection — the  intermarriage  of 
some  of  the  children.  They  were  but  children,  the 
two  couples — Gilbert  Talbot,  the  fifteen-year-old  second 
son  of  the  Lord-Lieutenant  and  Mary  Cavendish,  and 
the  bride's  son  Henry  Cavendish,  to  whom  Grace  Tal- 
bot, the  Earl's  daughter,  was  given  as  wife. 

The  aforesaid  childish  marriages  were  settled  and 
carried  through  forthwith.  Shortly  afterwards  the 
wedding  of  their  elders  took  place  with  due  magnifi- 
cence, while  the  bride,  besides  her  Cavendish  and 
Barlow  properties,  brought  to  her  fourth  husband  the 
Gloucestershire  estate  of  St.  Loe. 

If  the  Cavendish  epoch  had  been  one  of  security  and 
happiness,  the  Shrewsbury  epoch  promised  to  be  one  of 
sheer  brilliance  and  delight.  It  is  true  there  were  one 
or  two  dissentient  voices.  Said  a  certain  John  Hall, 
under  subsequent  examination  upon  his  arrest  for 
Scottish  conspiracy,  that,  though  he  served  as  a  gentle- 
man of  the  Earl's  household  for  some  years,  he  so  mis- 
liked  my  Lord's  marriage  with  this  wife,  as  divers 
others  of  his  friends  did,  that  he  resigned  his  post. 
Yet  the  Queen  and  her  circle  approved.  That  was  the 
main  thing.  The  following  letter  from  a  kinsman  at 
Court  emphasises  the  fact  : — ' 

*   Hunter's  liallamshire. 


"A   GREAT  GENTLEMAN"  37 

"  May  it  please  you  to  understand  that  Mr.  Wingfield 
hath  delivered  your  venison  to  the  Queen's  Majesty 
with  my  lord's  most  humble  commission,  and  your 
Ladyship  with  humble  thanks  from  both  your  honours 
for  her  great  goodness. 

"  [I]  assure  your  Ladyship  of  my  faith,  her  Majesty 
did  talk  one  long  hour  with  Mr.  Wingfield  of  my  Lord 
and  you  so  carefully,  that,  as  God  is  my  judge,  I  think 
your  honours  have  no  friend  living  that  could  have 
more  consideration,  nor  more  show  love  and  great 
affection.  In  the  end  she  asked  when  my  Lady  meant 
to  come  to  the  Court  :  he  answered  he  knew  not  :  then 
said  she,  *  I  am  assured  if  she  might  have  her  own  will 
she  would  not  be  long  before  she  would  see  me.'  Then 
said,  *  1  have  been  glad  to  see  my  Lady  Saint-Loe,  but 
now  more  desirous  to  see  my  Lady  Shrewsbury.'  *  I 
hope,'  said  she,  *  my  Lady  hath  known  my  good  opinion 
of  her  ;  and  thus  much  I  assure  you,  there  is  no  Lady 
in  this  land  that  I  better  love  and  like.'  Mr.  Batleman 
can  more  at  large  declare  unto  your  honour.  And  so 
with  most  humble  commendations  to  my  very  good 
Lord,  I  wish  to  you  both  as  the  Queen's  Majesty  doth 
desire  ;  and  so  take  my  leave  in  humble  wise.  From 
St.  John's  the  21st  of  October. 

"  Your  honours  to  command, 

"E.  Wingfield." 

There  was  certainly  nothing  whatever  in  this  marriage 
to  upset  Elizabeth's  plans.  Indeed,  it  really  paved  the 
way  for  her  schemes  and  made  it  easier  for  her  to 
utilise  not  only  the  Earl's  wealth,  his  authority  and 
position,  but  all  his  country  seats  in  turn  for  the  greater 
security  of  her  life  and  throne. 


38  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

My  Lady  Shrewsbury  was  forty-eight,  my  Lord  had 
been  but  eight  years  an  Earl.  Time  had  not  yet 
marked  on  his  face  the  lines  of  anxiety  and  care  which 
the  next  twenty-three  years  were  to  bring  him.  He 
was  at  the  zenith  of  his  career,  and  the  Queen  hinted 
mysteriously  that  ere  long  she  would  show  him  still 
more  emphatic  proofs  of  her  trust  and  affection  in  so 
splendid  a  servitor.  It  is  in  a  very  happy  and  devoted 
vein  that  he  writes  love  letters  from  Court  just  after 
marriage  to  his  second  bride,  in  which  he  addresses  her 
as  "  sweet  none."  ^ 

It  is  regrettable  that  these  letters  to  his  "  none  "  are 
not  more  numerous.  Otherwise  the  Earl's  correspond- 
ence all  his  life  was  enormous,  and  the  masses  of 
letters  which  mirror  contemporary  history  and  his  duties 
in  connection  with  them  are  nearly  all  comprised  in 
that  rich  heritage  of  manuscript  known  as  the  Talbot 
Papers.  Cecil  is  his  constant  correspondent.  As  Lord- 
Lieutenant  of  three  such  great  counties  he  would 
naturally  be  kept  au  courant  of  great  happenings.  Is 
there  fear  of  French  invasion  }  Immediately  the  Lords 
of  the  Privy  Council  send  him  instructions.  He  is 
to  organise  companies  of  demi-lances,  to  find  horses 
for  them — "  a  good  strong  and  well-set  gelding  and 
a  man  on  his  back  meet  to  wear  a  corselet  and  shoot 
a  dagge "  runs  the  specification.  Did  her  Majesty 
receive  "  letters  out  of  Spain  "  }  Copies  of  the  same 
were  sent  to  the  Earl  "  to  the  intent  that  you  may 
thereby  see  what  the  humour  and  disposition  of  those 
parties  [i.e.  the  King  of  Spain  and  his  emissary] 
tend  unto."  Did  France  goad  Mary  of  Scotland  into 
that  unforgettable  offence — the  adoption  of  the  English 

^   None  ^  own.     Probably  an  abbreviation  of  "mine  own." 


"A   GREAT  GENTLEMAN"  39 

royal  arms  ?  Then  also  must  his  lordship  be  acquain- 
ted with  the  fact  and  its  immense  possibilities.  Pre- 
sently active  Scottish  hostility  seemed  imminent,  and 
the  letter  which  travelled  to  my  Lord  from  Berwick 
to  bid  him  have  all  his  men  in  readiness  to  move 
to  the  Border  is  cumbrously  and  theatrically  endorsed 
"  Haste,  haste,  haste,  haste,  post  haste  with  all  possible 
haste." 

The  marriage  of  Mary  and  Darnley,  the  exciting 
news  of  the  force  raised  by  the  rebellious  Earls  of 
Moray  and  Arran  against  their  Queen  immediately 
after  the  ceremony,  the  perilous  position  of  Mary  be- 
twixt her  enemies — between  Moray's  force  on  one 
side,  secretly  encouraged  by  Elizabeth,  and  Elizabeth's 
forces,  supplemented  by  two  thousand  Irish  and  the 
Earl  of  Argyle's  company,  on  the  other — the  details 
of  field-pieces  and  "  harquebusses,"  all  these  events 
and  matters  passed  in  review  under  the  eyes  of  the 
splendid  and  cautious  Earl  of  Shrewsbury.  Scarcely 
a  day  went  by  but  some  important  paper  or  letter,  official 
or  private,  was  put  into  his  hands.  At  every  turn 
he  was  helping  to  "  make  history,"  while  he  was  a  keen 
spectator  of  the  Scottish  drama  up  to  the  point  when 
Mary  fled  out  of  her  own  country  to  implore  the  aid 
and  protection  of  her  sister  sovereign. 

It  is  now  that  the  plot — Elizabeth's  plot  which  she 
had  kept  up  her  sleeve — begins  to  peep  out.  The  first 
authentic  news  of  it  apparently  went  to  the  other 
Elizabeth,  the  newly  made  Countess  of  Shrewsbury, 
in  the  following  letter  from  the  English  Court.  The 
signature  is  torn  oif,  but  the  correspondent  has  weighty 
news  to  tell,  in  spite  of  his  deprecatory  attitude  towards 
mere  rumours  : — 


40  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

"  My  most  humble  duty  remembered  unto  your 
honourable  good  Ladyship.  If  it  were  not  for  my 
bounden  duty's  sake  I  would  be  loth  to  write,  because 
there  is  so  small  certainty  in  occurrences,  but  (seeing 
I  am  bound  to  write)  it  is  but  small  that  I  see  with 
my  own  eyes  that  is  worth  writing,  and  therefore  I 
am  forced  to  supply  by  that  I  do  hear  ;  which  I  write 
as  I  hear  by  credible  report,  otherwise  I  should  not 
write  at  all,  and  therefore  if  I  do  err  it  is  pardonable. 
The  news  is  here  that  my  Lord  your  husband  is  sworn 
of  the  Privy  Council  ;  and  that  the  Scottish  Queen  is 
on  her  journey  to  Tutbury,  something  against  her  will, 
and  will  be  under  my  Lord's  custody  there." 

The  rest  of  the  letter  is  perhaps  worth  quoting, 
because  it  gives  a  picture  of  public  events  and  suggests 
such  a  spacious  background  for  the  present  life  of  Bess 
Hardwick.  It  deals  with  the  war  now  beginning 
between  Spain  and  the  Netherlands,  owing  to  the  bar- 
barous treatment  of  the  latter  by  the  Duke  of  Alva, 
and  the  commotion  occasioned  by  it  in  France. 

"  The  report  is  that  the  Duke  of  Alva  hath  for  the 
lack  of  money  disarmed  the  most  part  of  his  army  ; 
and  they  are  not  paid  for  that  is  past  ;  but  rob  and 
steal,  and  much  molest  the  country.  And  being  divers 
garrisons  at  Maestricht  of  the  Walloons  the  Duke  sent 
to  discharge  them  and  sent  Spaniards  in  their  place, 
who  have  shut  the  gates  of  the  Spaniards  and  refuse 
to  deliver  the  town  before  they  are  paid  their  due.  .  .  . 
In  France  there  is  a  great  stir  to  let  the  Prince  of 
Conde  to  join  with  the  Prince  of  Orange,  so  that  the 
King  divides  his  force,  the  Duke  of  Anjou  to  stop  the 
passage  of  the  Prince  of  Conde,  etc.,  etc." 


"A   GREAT   GENTLEMAN"  41 

The  letter  ends  with  intimate  details  : — 

"And  so  eftsoons  Jesus  preserve  you  and  send  my 
cousin  Frances  a  good  hour  and  your  honour  a  glad 
grandmother. 

"  Scribbled  at  London  .  .  .  January,  1568." 

Evidently  this  "  Frances "  is  the  eldest  daughter  of 
the  Countess,  who  married  Sir  Henry  Pierrepoint,  and 
whose  child  is  awaited. 

Matters  as  regards  the  Earl  of  Shrewsbury  did  not 
move  so  fast  as  one  would  expect.  It  was  not  till  June 
of  1568  that  the  final  orders  reached  the  Earl  to  make 
ready  his  "  castle  "  of  Tutbury  for  the  reception  of  his 
romantic  royal  prisoner.  Mary  was  now  at  Carlisle, 
and  the  part  which  the  Earl  was  to  play  in  her  en- 
tourage as  suggested  in  contemporary  letters  has  more 
the  character  of  that  of  a  prominent  cavalier  in  a 
princely  retinue  than  that  of  a  military  gaoler.  The 
description  in  the  French  ambassador's  letter  reads 
well  : — 

"  A  castle  named  Tutbury,  which  is  only  one 
hundred  miles  from  here  " — London — "  and  is  a  very 
beautiful  place  as  they  say,  especially  for  l^unting,  in 
which,  whenever  it  takes  place,  the  Earl  of  Shrews- 
bury, who  has  a  portion  of  his  estate  in  that  neighbour- 
hood, is  ordered  to  give  her  his  company,  along  with 
other  Lords  and  gentlemen  thereabout." 

The  Queen  was  feeling  her  way,  slowly  sounding 
the  Shrewsburys'  relatives,  careful  always  to  assert  her 
appreciation  not  only  of  lord,  but  of  lady.  My  Lord 
came  to  Court,  and  still  her  Majesty  beat  about  the 
bush. 


42  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

The  following  letters^  from  the  Earl  belong  to  this 
epoch  of  the  lives  of  the  newly  wedded  pair  : — 

"  My  dear  none,  being  here  arrived  at  Wingfield  late 
yesternight  from  RofFord,  though  very  weary  in  toiling 
about,  yet  thinking  you  would  be  desirous  to  hear 
from  me,  scribbled  these  few  lines  to  let  you  under- 
stand that  I  was  in  health  and  wished  you  anights  with 
me.  I  picked  out  a  very  good  time,  for  since  my 
coming  from  home  I  never  had  letters  but  these  this 
morning  from  Gilbert,  which  I  send  you.  I  mind 
to-morrow,  God  willing,  to  be  with  you  at  Chatsworth  : 
and  in  the  meantime  as  occurrences  [befall]  to  me  you 
shall  be  partaker  of  them.  I  thank  you,  sweet  none, 
for  your  baked  capon,  and  chiefest  of  all  for  remember- 
ing of  me.  It  will  be  late  to-morrow  before  my  coming 
to  Chatsworth,  seven  or  eight  of  the  clock  at  the 
soonest :  and  so  farewell,  my  true  one. 

"This  28th  June. 

"  Your  faithful  husband, 

"G.  Shrewsbury." 

"  My  dear  none,  having  received  your  letter  of  the 
first  of  December  which  came  in  very  good  time,  else 
had  I  sent  one  of  these  few  remaining  with  me  to  have 
brought  me  word  of  your  health,  which  I  doubted  of 
for  that  I  heard  not  from  you  of  all  this  time  till  now, 
which  drove  me  in  dumps,  but  now  relieved  again 
by  your  writing  unto  me.  1  thank  you,  sweet  none,  for 
your  puddings  and  venison.  The  puddings  have  I 
bestowed  in  this  wise  :  [a]  dozen  to  my  Lady  Cobham, 
and  as  many  to  my  L.  Steward  and  unto  my  L.  of 
Leicester  :  and  the  rest  I  have  reserved  to  myself  to 

*   Hunter's  Hallamshire. 


"A    GREAT   GENTLEMAN"  43 

eat  in  my  chamber.  The  venison  is  yet  at  London, 
but  I  have  sent  for  it  hither. 

"  I  perceive  Ned  Talbot  hath  been  sick,  and  [is]  now 
past  danger.  I  thank  God  I  have  such  a  none  that  is 
so  careful  over  me  and  mine.  God  send  me  soon  home 
to  possess  my  greatest  joy  :  if  you  think  it  is  you,  you 
are  not  deceived. 

"  1  will  not  forget  to  deal  with  the  Master  of  the 
Rolls  for  young  Knifton.  He  seems  to  be  much  my 
friend,  and  is  now  in  dealing  between  Denenge  and  me, 
for  the  lease  of  Abbot  Stake,  agreed  upon  by  me  and 
Tamworth  he  should  so  do.  He  holds  it  at  a  thousand 
marks  :  and  the  Master  of  the  Rolls  hath  driven  it 
to  five  hundred  pounds,  which  methinks  too  much  for 
such  a  lease,  yet  because  it  lies  so,  as  I  am  informed, 
amongst  Gilbert's  lands,  I  have  made  my  steward  to 
offer  four  hundred  pounds,  and  to  get  [delay]  till  the 
next  term,  because  I  would  have  your  advice  therein. 
And  for  that  I  live  in  hope  to  be  with  you  before  you 
can  return  answer  again,  you  shall  understand  that  this 
present  Monday  in  the  morning  finding  the  Queen  in 
the  garden  at  good  leisure,  I  gave  her  Majesty  thanks 
that  she  had  so  little  regard  to  the  clamorous  people 
of  Bolsover^  in  my  absence.  She  declared  unto  me 
what  evil  speech  was  against  me,  my  nearness  and  state 
in  housekeeping,  and  as  much  as  was  told  her,  which 
she  now  believes  with  as  good  words  as  I  could  wish, 
declaring  that  ere  it  were  long  I  should  well  perceive 
she  did  so  trust  me  as  she  did  few.  She  would  not  tell 
me  therein,  but  [I]  doubt  [not]  it  was  about  the  custody 
of  the  Scottish  Queen.  Here  is  private  speech  that  Gates 
and  Vaughan  should  make  suit  to  have  her,  but  this  day 

^  His  disaffected  tenants  at  Bolsover. 


44  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

I  perceive  it  is  altered.  I  think  before  Sunday  these 
matters  will  come  to  some  pass,  that  we  shall  know 
how  long  our  abode  shall  be,  but  howsoever  it  falls  out, 
1  will  not  fail  but  be  with  you  before  Christmas,  or 
else  you  shall  come  to  me. 

"The  plague  is  dispersed  far  abroad  in  London,  so 
that  the  Queen  keeps  her  Christmas  here,  and  goeth  not 
to  Greenwich  as  it  was  meant.  My  Lady  Cobham,  your 
dear  friend,  wishes  your  presence  here  :  she  loves  you 
well.  I  tell  her  I  have  the  cause  to  love  her  best,  for 
that  she  wished  me  so  well  to  speed  as  I  did :  and  as  the 
pen  writes  so  the  heart  thinks,  that  of  all  earthly  joys 
that  hath  happened  unto  me,  I  thank  God  chiefest  for 
you  :  for  with  you  I  have  all  joy  and  contentation  of 
mind,  and  without  you  death  is  more  pleasant  to  me 
than  life  if  I  thought  I  should  long  be  from  you  :  and 
therefore,  good  wife,  do  as  I  will  do,  hope  shortly  of 
our  meeting,  and  farewell,  dear  sweet  none.  From 
Hampton  Court  this  Monday  at  midnight,  for  it  is 
every  night  so  late  before  I  go  to  my  bed,  being  at  play 
in  the  privy  chamber  at  Premiro,  where  I  have  lost 
almost  a  hundred  pounds,  and  lacked  my  sleep. 
"  Your  faithful  husband  till  death, 

"  G.  Shrewsbury. 

"  Wife,  tell  my  daughter  Maule  that  I  am  not  pleased 
with  her  that  she  hath  not  written  to  me  with  her  sister : 
yet  will  I  not  forget  her  and  the  rest,  and  pray  God  to 
bless  them  all. 

"  To  my  wife  the  Countess  of  Shrewsbury  at  Tutbury 
give  this." 

The  daughter  "  Maule "  here  named  is  evidently 
Mary.     Besides  Gilbert  and  Grace  Talbot,  married  as 


"A   GREAT   GENTLEMAN"  45 

stated  to  the  Cavendish  daughter  and  son  of  Lady 
Shrewsbury,  the  Earl's  children  were  Francis,  the  eldest 
(who  married  Anne  Herbert,  daughter  of  William  Earl 
of  Pembroke,  and  did  not  inherit,  since  he  died  in 
1582)  ;  Mary,  who  married  Sir  George  Saville,  Kt.  ; 
Catherine,  who  married  Henry  Earl  of  Pembroke  ; 
Edward,  who  married  Jane  (elder  daughter  of  Cuthbert 
Lord  Ogle,  co-heiress  with  the  wife  of  Charles  Caven- 
dish), and  succeeded  to  his  father's  title,  after  Gilbert, 
as  eighth  earl;  and  Henry  Talbot,  who  married  Eliza- 
beth, daughter  of  Sir  William  Rayner,  and  left  two 
daughters. 

The  next  letter  from  the  Earl  gives  the  Queen's 
important  decision  : — 

"  My  dear  none,  I  have  received  your  letter  of  the 
8th  of  December,  wherein  appeareth  your  desire  for  my 
soon  coming.  What  my  desire  is  thereunto,  I  refer  the 
same  to  your  construsion.^  If  I  so  judge  of  time, 
methinks  time  longer  since  my  coming  hither  without 
you,  my  only  joy,  than  I  did  since  I  married  you :  such 
is  faithful  affection,  which  I  never  tasted  so  deeply  of 
before.  This  day  or  to-morrow  we  shall  know  great 
likelihood  of  our  despatch.  I  think  it  will  be  Christmas 
Even  before  I  shall  arrive  at  Tutbury.  Things  fall  out 
very  evil  against  the  Scots'  Queen.  What  she  shall  do 
yet  is  not  resolved  of. 

"  As  it  chances,  I  am  glad  that  I  am  here  :  for  if  I 
were  not  I  were  like  to  have  most  part  of  my  leases 
granted  over  my  head  :  there  is  such  suit  for  leases  in 
reversion  of  the  Duchy.  My  park  that  I  have  in  keep- 
ing called  Morley  Park  is  granted  in  reversion  for  thirty 

^  Construction. 


46  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

years,  wherein  I  have  made  some  stir.  My  good  neigh- 
bour hath  a  promise  of  it,  and  if  I  can  get  it  put  in  I  am 
about  to  get  a  friend  of  mine  to  put  the  forest  of  the 
Peak  in  his  book.  I  have  offered  a  thousand  pounds  for 
a  lease  in  reversion  for  thirty  years.  I  must  pay  Denege 
five  hundred  and  forty-one  for  his  lease  of  Stoke.  How 
money  will  be  had  for  these  matters  assure  you  I  know 
not.  I  will  make  such  means  to  Mr.  Mildmay  for  the 
stay  of  Tutbury  tithe,  as  1  will  not  be  prevented  :  for  it 
is  high  time,  for  there  was  never  such  striving  and 
prancing  for  leases  in  reversion  as  be  now  at  this 
present. 

"  My  L.  Steward  hath  been  sick  and  in  danger,  but 
now  well.     My  L.  Sheffield  is  departed  this  life  ;  and 
my  L.  Paget  just  after.     Your  black  man  is  in  health. 
"  Your  faithful  husband  till  my  end, 

"  G.  Shrewsbury. 

"  From  the  Court  this  Monday  the  13th  of  December. 
Now  it  is  certain  the  Scots'  Queen  comes  to  Tutbury  to 
my  charge.     In  what  order  I  cannot  ascertain  you. 

"To  my  wife  the  Countess  of  Shrewsbury 
at  Tutbury  give  this." 

It  was  not  till  just  the  close  of  1568  that  Shrewsbury 
was  certain  of  his  new  duty  and  in  a  position  to  write 
that  triumphant  postscript.  Within  a  month,  in  the 
beginning  of  the  New  Year,  he  had  taken  over  from 
Sir  Francis  Knollys  the  task  which  was  to  prove  so 
engrossing,  stupendous,  so  provocative  of  every  imagin- 
able complication,  official  and  domestic. 

Imagine  the  excitement  of  my  Lady  at  such  a  juncture  ! 
She  knew  the  Scottish  Queen  only  by  hearsay,  and  her 
curiosity  must  have  been  kept  at  boiling  pitch  while  her 


"A   GREAT   GENTLEMAN"  47 

heart  swelled  with  importance  in  the  anticipation  of  the 
additional  chatelaine's  duties  thrust  upon  her  by  the 
august  guest.  She  had  known  what  it  was  to  deal  with 
a  princess  in  captivity,  for  she  had  been  acquainted 
with  Elizabeth  before  her  accession.  The  present 
matter  was  far  more  vital,  more  portentous.  The 
Queen  who  rode  wearily  from  Bolton  Castle  to  Sheffield 
and  thence  to  Tutbury  must  be  humoured  as  Queen, 
served  as  queens  are  served,  but  a  network  of  rules 
were  being  prepared,  not  only  for  her  own  retinue  and 
the  household,  but  for  earl  and  lady. 

The  Earl,  foreseeing  all  such  domestic  complications, 
had  asked  the  Council  for  directions  as  to  the  treatment 
of  his  prisoner.  "  Remembrances  for  my  L.  of  Shrews- 
bury "  stands  at  the  head  of  notes,  in  his  handwriting, 
all  duly  numbered.  Of  these  No.  5  reads,  "  For  my 
wife's  access  unto  her,  if  she  send  for  her." 

To  this  the  reply  in  Cecil's  handwriting  is,  "  The 
Queen  of  Scots  may  see  the  Countess,  if  she  is  sick,  or 
for  any  other  necessary  cause,  but  rarely.  No  other 
gentlewoman  must  be  allowed  access  to  her."  The 
remainder  of  the  rules  are  strict  enough,  and  the 
pleasant  country-house  picture  drawn  by  the  French 
Ambassador,  De  la  Forest,  in  the  letter  quoted,  is  rudely 
effaced  by  these  details.  Shrewsbury  is  to  be  well  for- 
tified by  an  array  of  facts  against  the  Scottish  Queen, 
lest  her  pleading  should  win  his  sympathies  and  her 
captive  condition  arouse  his  indignation  too  deeply. 
How  the  regulations  at  every  turn  reveal  Elizabeth  of 
England — at  once  autocratic  and  apprehensive  of  her 
own  importance,  at  once  trustful  and  suspicious  !  The 
document  is  so  vital  a  part  of  the  household  appanage 
of  the  Shrewsburys  from  this  moment  until  the  close  of 


48  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

their  wardership  that  it  is  worth  quoting  in  the  concise 
form  in  which,  partly  in  the  original  and  partly  as 
abstract,  it  is  given  in  Leader's  admirable  Mary  Queen 
of  Scots  in  Captivity. 

"  A  memorial  of  certain  thinges  imparted  by  the 
Q.  Matie  to  the  erle  of  Shrewsbery,  for  the  causes 
following.  Gyvtii  at  Hampton  Courte,  the  xxvjth 
day  of  January  1568,  the  xjth  year  of  her  Mates 
reign.  The  Q.  has  chosen  him  in  consequence  of  his 
approved  loyalty  and  faithfulness,  and  the  ancient  state 
and  blood  from  which  he  is  descended,  to  have  the 
custody  of  the  Queen  of  Scots. 

"The  Earl  is  to  treat  her,  being  a  Queen,  of  the 
Queen  Elizabeth's  blood,  with  the  reverence  and  honour 
meet  for  a  person  of  his  state  and  calling  and  for  her 
degree.  He  must  ask  Lord  Scrope  and  the  Vice 
Chamberlain  [Knollys]  about  the  ceremonies  used  by 
them  towards  her,  that  *  she  may  not  find  herself  to  be 
in  the  usage  of  herself  abused,  nor  by  this  removing  to 
have  her  State  amended.' 

"Whatever  honour  he  gives  her  he  must  take  care  that 
by  no  pretence  she  finds  any  means  to  gain  any  rule 
over  him  to  practise  for  her  escape.  She  must  have  no 
opportunity  either  to  escape  nor  yet  to  practise  with 
anyone  to  help  her  to  escape.  He  doubtless  knows  how 
important  it  is  to  the  Queen's  honour  and  reputation 
and  quietness  that  Mary  does  not  depart  without  the 
Queen's  assent.  No  persons  must  be  in  conference  with 
her  except  those  already  placed  about  her  as  her  or- 
dinary servants,  and  those  who  have  special  licence  from 
the  Queen.  The  latter  for  no  longer  time  than  is  men- 
tioned in  the  licence. 

"  If  any  persons  coming  to  visit  the  Earl  or  anyone 


«A   GREAT   GENTLEMAN"  49 

in  his  household,  proffer  to  come  to  her  presence,  or  to 
have  conference  with  any  belonging  to  her,  or  if  she 
invites  them  to  come  to  her  presence  in  the  house  or 
abroad,  under  colour  of  hunting,  or  other  pastime,  he 
shall  warn  them  to  forbear,  and  if  needful  use  his 
authority  to  make  them  desist,  and  send  their  names  to 
the  Queen. 

"  Persons  coming  out  of  Scotland  to  see  her,  if  of 
degrees  above  that  of  servants,  or  if  noted  to  be  busy 
men  and  practicers,  must  be  remitted  to  the  Queen  for 
licence.  If  they  are  mean  servants  or  persons  coming 
only  to  have  relief  of  her,  he  shall  not  be  so  straight 
towards  them  as  to  give  her  occasion  to  say  she  is  kept 
a  prisoner,  and  yet  he  must  understand  their  errands 
and  not  suffer  them  to  abide  where  she  shall  be,  or 
to  hover  about  the  country. 

"  He  must  make  a  view  of  all  her  ordinary  servants 
when  he  first  takes  the  charge,  and  cause  a  household 
roll  to  be  made  of  those  necessary  and  of  those  who 
were  with  her  at  Bolton.  With  the  advice  of  the  Vice 
Chamberlain,  he  must  reduce  the  number,  omitting 
those  who  are  superfluous  and  who  are  fit  rather  for 
practices  than  service.  .  .  .  Her  diet  must  be  kept  at 
the  former  rate,  and  payments  made  by  the  clerk  who  was 
sent  for  that  purpose  from  the  Queen's  household.  He 
(my  Lord  Shrewsbury)  must  consult  the  Vice  Chamber- 
lain as  to  the  watching  of  the  house,  as  he  knows  her 
condition  and  the  disposition  of  those  about  her. 
The  Queen  intended  her  first  to  be  placed  at  Tutbury 
Castle  but  as  the  house  is  not  fit,  if  she  is  nearer  the 
Earl's  house  of  Sheffield  than  Tutbury,  she  shall  remain 
there  till  further  orders.  If  she  is  at  Tutbury,  it  is  left 
to  the  Earl's  discretion   to  allow  her  to  remain,  or  to 


50  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

remove  her  to  Sheffield  or  any  other  of  the  Earl's 
houses. 

"  Because  it  is  thought  that  she  will  try  to  make  the 
Earl  think  her  cause  worthy  of  favour,  and  that  she  is  not 
well  used  in  being  restrained  from  liberty,  the  Queen 
has  ordered,  that  beside  the  knowledge  which  the  Earl 
has  of  the  presumptions  produced  against  her  for  the 
murder  of  her  husband,  and  her  unlawful  marriage  with 
the  principal  murderer  Bothwell,  he  shall  also  be 
informed  of  other  particulars  too  long  to  write  here, 
that  he  may  answer  her  and  her  favourers.  He  may 
say,  as  of  himself,  that  if  she  is  known  to  utter  any 
speeches  touching  the  Queen's  honour  or  doings,  it  may 
be  an  occasion  to  publish  all  her  actions,  which  once 
being  done  cannot  be  revoked,  but  many  things  must 
follow  to  her  prejudice. 

"  The  Earl  will  be  allowed  wages  for  40  persons  at 
6d.  a  day,  to  be  used  at  his  discretion." 

As  a  matter  of  fact  the  house  at  Tutbury  was 
certainly  "  not  fit "  for  the  reception  of  any  guest.  The 
Shrewsburys  made  application  to  the  Queen  for  hang- 
ings and  necessaries  in  the  way  of  furniture  ;  and  these 
were  promised.  But  they  did  not  arrive.  Mary  was 
growing  obstreperous  and  visited  all  her  misery  and 
annoyance  on  her  present  gaoler.  Sir  Francis  Knollys. 
He,  poor  man,  was  in  despair,  with  his  wife  dying,  and 
his  piteous  requests  for  discharge  from  duty  unheeded 
by  Elizabeth.  No  wonder  he  wrote  at  last  to  say  that 
he  would  take  the  matter  into  his  own  hands,  "and 
as  sure  as  God  is  in  heaven,  repair  to  Court,  and  suffer 
any  punishment  that  may  be  laid  upon  him,  rather  than 
continue  in  such  employment." 


«A   GREAT   GENTLEMAN"  51 

And  still  the  much-needed  furniture  was  not  in  its 
place.  At  last  my  Lady  Shrewsbury,  no  doubt  in 
desperation,  took  down  such  hangings  as  there  were 
at  Sheffield,  and  with  the  help  of  the  borrowed  details 
set  to  work  to  prepare  Tutbury.  A  supplementary 
instalment  of  household  articles  from  Court  helped  to 
complete  the  necessaries.  The  journey  from  Bolton 
began  on  January  25th,  in  morose,  biting  weather.  It 
brought  Mary  of  Scotland  to  the  single  gate  in  the  wall 
surrounding  Tutbury  on  the  afternoon  of  February  4th, 
a  Friday.  The  position  of  this  place  was  fair  enough  in 
the  beautiful  valley  of  the  Dove,  but  it  was  not  all  the 
French  Ambassador  imagined  it,  and  my  lady  and  her 
household  were  sore  put  to  it  to  make  it  habitable. 
The  scene  of  commotion  and  bustle  must  have  palpi- 
tated with  drama.  With  messengers  bringing  letters 
and  the  rumours  and  counter-rumours  which  filtered 
through  from  the  country  folk  the  ten  days  of  Queen 
Mary's  journey  southward  must  have  been  a  period 
of  extraordinary  tension  for  all  immediately  concerned. 
The  condition  of  that  busy,  expectant  household  at 
Tutbury  under  my  Lady's  command  is  best  suggested 
in  the  imaginary  dialogue  overleaf. 


CHAPTER    IV 

HUBBUB 

Scene :  The  presence  chamber  of  Tutbury  Castle  on  a  raw  day 
of  February,  1569.  A  casement  flapping  in  the  wind. 
Crimson  velvet  drapery  lies  on  the  floor,  and  two  women 
squat  there,  stitching  at  it.  Beyond,  through  an  open  door, 
a  suite  of  smaller  rooms  full  of  furniture. 

First  Sewing  Woman.  You  tug  too  much  of  the  velvet 
over  to  you,  Mary.  Let  be,  and  be  content  with  your 
share. 

Second  Sewing  Woman.  I  only  desire  to  help  you, 
Richardyne.    I  scarcely  can  hold  my  needle  for  the  cold. 

\st  S.W.  Then  shut  the  window,  you  fool. 

ind  S.W.  Nay,  fool  I  am  not,  though  1  be  younger 
than  you.  For  I  did  not  set  the  window  open.  It  was 
the  cook.      Call  him  to  fasten  it. 

\st  S.W.  The  cook  indeed  !  His  part  is  to  bake  and 
stew,  not  hang  out  of  the  casements. 

ind  S.W.  Will  there  be  a  great  feast,  do  you  think, 
when  this  Queen  comes  ? 

lit  S.W.  There  will  be  feasts  every  night. 

ind  S.W.  Lord  !  how  happy  it  will  be  !  They  say 
she  loves  dancing. 

istS.W.  Who  told  you  this  ? 

2nd  S.W.  The  post  that  brought  my  Lord's  letter 
from  Bolton.  He  knew,  for  he  spoke  like  a  Scottish 
man. 

52 


HUBBUB  53 

ist  S.fV.  Now  I  see  why  the  fiddler  has  come  from 
Chatsworth. 

ind  S.JV.  Yes,  to  make  music  he  has  come.  He 
begged  my  Lady  so  sore  to  keep  him  here  that  she 
promised  the  poor  wretch  at  last 

1st  S.IV.  There  he  is,  playing  down  by  the  kitchen. 

2nd  S.JV.  He  is  coming  here.  [Gets  up  hastily  and 
trips  over  the  velvet.  Enter  a  youth  with  branches  of  laurel 
and  ivy.  He  puts  them  on  a  table,  and  is  about  to  retire 
when  the  fiddler  enters  playing  and  bowing^ 

The  Youth.  What  do  you  here,  old  scraping  John  } 

Fiddler.  More  than  you,  fellow  of  discord,  with  idle 
arms. 

The  Youth  [angrily].  They  are  only  waiting  to  pound 
thee. 

Fiddler.  I  am  my  Lord's  servant  more  than  you.  He 
has  many  boys  like  you  who  can  stand  and  stare,  but 
only  one  who  can  fiddle. 

The  Youth  [advancing].  Look  to  thyself.  Thy  catgut 
will  not  shield  thee  much. 

Fiddler  [from  behind  the  table].  Help,  help.  Master 
Crompe  1 

The  fVomen  [rising  and  flinging  the  velvet  over  the  chair]. 
Help,  help — porter,  cook,  men,  all  of  you  ! 

ist  S.W.  [to  the  youth].  Boy,  do  not  brawl  in  the 
presence  chamber. 

2nd  S.PF.  No,  no,  it  is  foolish.  We  each  must  work 
to-day  that  we  may  dance  another  day.  And  how  can 
we  dance  if  you  break  the  fiddler's  head  .'' 

The  Youth  [furious].  He  is  a  lewd  fellow,  smooth  and 
gentle  to  you  wenches,  but  a  liar 

Fiddler.  Master  Crompe.  He  calls  me  a  liar.  [Enter 
the  Steward^  Crompe.] 


54  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

Crompe.  Stop  your  bellowing,  all.  You,  Fiddler — 
drown  the  chatter  with  your  music,  if  music  you  must 
make.  Her  Ladyship  comes.  You — boy,  go  to  the 
bedchambers  above  and  help  to  carry  down  the  napery 
which  she  will  give  you.  Oh  !  there  is  more  to  accom- 
plish than  any  hands  can  do.  The  stables  are  not  yet 
ready,  two  of  the  scullions  are  drunk  and  must  go,  the 
carpenters  are  short  of  wood  for  the  mending  of  the 
walls  of  my  Lord's  guardroom,  the  roof  of  the  dining-hall 
leaks,  and  the  roll  of  canvas  for  the  wall  behind  the 
dais,  which  is  mossy  and  wet,  has  not  come  from  France. 
\Goes  out  shaking  his  head.^ 

ind  S.fV.  [mimicking  hifn].  Lord,  oh.  Lord  !  the  sky 
will  tumble  on  our  heads. 

I  J/  S.fi^.  Get  back  to  work,  girl.  These  velvets  are 
for  the  Scots  Queen's  bedroom. 

2nd  S.fV.  Is  that  true  .?  I  will  stitch  hard  if— Master 
Fiddler  will  play. 

Fiddler.  All  work,  not  forgetting  the  business  of  eat- 
ing, goes  better  to  music.  [Begins  to  play,  walking  up 
and  down  the  room.] 

2nd  S.PF.  [laughing],  I  cannot  sew.  There  is  an  itch 
in  my  ankles. 

ist  S.fV.  Fudge! 

2nd  S.IV.  Do  you  think  it  is  the  plague  that  I  have  } 

Fiddler.  It  means  that  you  must  dance  and  not  sew. 

[2nd  S.fV.,  jumping  up,  gathers  up  her  petticoats,  and 
prances  in  time.  The  Fiddler  plays  on,  and  the  youth, 
entering  with  napery,  thrusts  it  on  to  the  large  table  and 
joins  the  dance.] 

2nd  S.fV.  Faster,  Master  Fiddler,  till  feet  are  as  hot 
as  toasts. 


HUBBUB  55 

In  the  middle  of  it,  with  a  jingle  of  \eys  and  a  rustle  of 
skirts,  enter  my  Lady  of  Shrewsbury  imth  a  long  roll 
of  paper  in  her  hands. 

Bess  \in  the  doorway'j.  Is  this  how  my  command  is 
obeyed  ? 

[The  music  dies  away  with  a  trickle,  the  dancers  fall  back 
against  the  wall.l 

1st  S.W.  \rises  and  curtsies\.  Richardyne's  feet  were 
cold,  my  Lady,  and  she  danced  to  save  them  from  blains. 

Bess  [drily'].  A  mess  of  mustard  were  the  quicker  way, 
I  think,  to  cure  that.  [To  the  youth.]  And  you — have 
you  also  frozen  toes  ? 

Youth.  Y — yes,  my  Lady. 

Bess.  Then  go  and  keep  watch  outside  the  castle  gate 
in  the  wind.  That  will  warm  you  quick  enow.  You 
can  play  Jumping  Joan  all  the  while  and  nobody  to  stop 
you.  But  so  soon  as  you  see  a  light  upon  the  hill  it  is 
the  signal  that  the  Queen  has  passed  the  woods  and  is 
close.  [Exit  Youth.]  [To  the  Fiddler?^  Remember — you — 
you  must  not  intrude  if  you  are  to  be  suffered  here. 
You  must  stay  in  the  kitchens  till  you  are  wanted. 

Fiddler.  My  Lady,  I  went  looking  for  you  and  thought 
to  find  you  here  to  know  my  duties. 

Bess.  Like  enough  1  Make  no  noise  till  you  are 
ordered.  [He  turns  to  ^o.]  Stop  !  What  tunes  can 
you  play  ? 

Fiddler.  A  hundred  and  more — "  The  Derby  Ram," 
*'  The  Nun's  Green  Rangers,"  "  The  Unconscionable 
Bachelors,"  *'  The  Derby  Hero,"  «  The  Bakewell  " 

Bess.  Silence  1  I  do  not  desire  to  listen  to  your 
dictionary.  How  do  you  call  the  air  you  played  but 
now  } 


56  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

Fiddler.  The  title  I  know  not,  my  Lady,  but  the  song 
of  it  begins — 

You  have  a  lodging  in  my  heart 
For  which  you  pay  no  rent. 

Bess.  Marry,  and  you  chose  that  to  greet  the  Queen  ? 

Fiddler.  It  is  for  you  to  choose,  my  Lady. 

Bess.  Go  to,  go  to.  Back  to  the  kitchens  with  your 
fiddle.  I  will  choose  later.  [^Enter  Master  Crompe.] 
Crompe,  Crompe,  did  you  hear  what  he  said — the  name 
of  his  tune  ? 

Crompe.  Yes,  my  Lady. 

Bess.  He  is  an  impudent  fellow,  Crompe. 

Crompe.  Innocent  I  trust,  my  Lady. 

Bess.  There  was  a  wink  in  his  eye,  Crompe.  [Stamps 
her  foot.']  "  You  have  a  lodging  in  my  heart" — forsooth  ! 
— "  For  which  you  pay  no  rent  !  "  Mark  that,  Crompe. 
It  mislikes  me  much.  He  should  play  that  to  my 
Lord  Treasurer  at  Court.  An'  the  next  letter  gives  no 
surety  of  that  I  will  no  more  tear  down  my  tapestries 
to  furnish  a  prison-house. 

Crompe  [soothingly'].  My  Lord  has  her  Majesty's  pro- 
mise in  writing  that  the  furnishments  shall  be  sent. 
And  for  the  present  we  can  make  shift. 

Bess.  Well,  well,  time  passes  and  nothing  is  finished. 
[Seats  herself  at  the  table.]  Bring  me  the  ink,  good 
Crompe,  that  I  may  check  the  appointments  in  the 
Scots  Queen's  chambers.  [Crompe  goes  out.]  Crompe, 
Crompe,  who  has  littered  this  room  with  this  green 
stufl^  ? 

1st  S.JV.  I  heard  Mistress  Elizabeth  Cavendish  com- 
mand the  branches  to  be  gathered  for  garlands. 

Bess.  Garlands  } 

ind  S.W.  For  the  Queen's  welcome. 


HUBBUB  57 

Bess.  Idleness  and  foolery.  Garlands  !  [^Catches  sight 
of  her  daughter  Elizabeth  in  the  doorway.']  Bet,  why  do 
you  bring  confusion  into  my  plans  ? 

Elizabeth.  Lady  mother,  there  were  no  flowers.  I 
have  sought  in  the  lanes,  and  there  is  no  joy  in  them. 
And  so  I  would  twine  the  laurels  and  ivy  into  chains 
and  see  the  leaves  shine  in  the  firelight. 

Bess  [sharply].  No  time  for  garlands.  There  will  be 
chains  enough  truly.  Go,  fetch  me  this  green  stuff 
away.  Throw  it  out  of  the  window,  Crompe.  Bet, 
fetch  your  needle  and  mend  me  yonder  cushion. 
[Goes  to  door  and  calls.]  Mrs.  Glasse  !  Wenches!  [PTomen 
come  running.  Mrs.  Glasse ,  the  housekeeper^  follows  with  a 
bundle  of  linen.] 

Bess.  Listen  to  me,  all  of  you.  Here  is  my  Lord's 
tale  of  the  things  which  must  be  ready.  As  1  read 
so  do  you  answer,  Mrs.  Glasse.  Thirty  pallets  must  be 
ready. 

Mrs.  Glasse.  Only  twenty  have  mattresses,  my  Lady. 

Bess.  Have  you  not  five  feather-beds,  woman  } " 

Mrs.  G.  Only  three,  my  Lady.  The  two  others  have 
been  taken  for  the  captain  of  the  soldiers  that  is  coming. 

Bess.  By  whose  order  ? 

Mrs.  G.  I  know  not. 

Bess.  Take  them  away  instantly  and  put  instead  the 
old  mattress  from  the  old  state-couch.  The  other  five 
must  make  shift  without  mattresses. 

Mrs.  G.  My  Lady,  there  are  not  pillows  for  more 
than  fifteen  beds. 

Bess.  But  yesterday  I  gave  you  out  ten  new  ones. 

Mrs.  G.  We  still  lack  fifteen,  save  your  Ladyship  will 
allow  those  of  chaff  to  be  used. 

Bess.  Use    anything,   all    you    can    lay    hands    upon. 


58  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

Lord,  Lord  !  all  my  substance  is  swallowed,  and  still 
you  cry  "  More  pillows  !  "  Beshrew  me  if  you  do  not 
eat  pillows.   Alice,  are  the  ewers  and  basins  in  place  ? 

Alice.  Yes,  m'lady,  though  one  is  cracked  and  two 
were  broken  early  this  morning  by  my  Lord's  hound, 
which  sprang  through  the  window,  so  that  1  dropped 
them  in  my  fright. 

Bess.  Lord  !  these  people  eat  ewers  as  fast  as  pillows ! 
Take  away  the  cracked  one  and  put  brass  ewers  for  the 
other  two.  No,  stay.  Leave  the  cracked  one.  They 
say  this  Queen's  folk  have  a  crazy  fancy  for  little  dogs 
and  darlings.  If  we  place  them  new  pitchers,  they  will 
only  break  those  also. 

Alice.  Little  French  dogs  .  .  .  ?  Oh,  they  will  be 
sport ! 

Bess.  Hold  thy  idiot's  tongue.  Pray  Heaven  they  do 
not  bring  monkeys  also,  like  Lady  Catherine  Grey^  when 
she  went  to  the  Tower.  Kate,  where  is  the  Queen's 
coverlet  ?  [Girls  bring  it  forward^  There  is  an  ugly 
darn  in  it.  It  shall  be  hidden  with  some  gold  lace. 
Fetch  my  Lord's  old  riding-cloak  and  rip  the  galloon 
quickly  from  it.  Do  not  use  the  broad,  but  the  narrow. 
It  will  seem  well  enough.     To  work,  to  work  ! 

[Re-enter  Crompe.] 

Crompe.  The  cook  and  his  fellows  be  ready,  my  Lady. 
Bess.  Let  him  come.     [Enter  a  procession  of  kitchen  men 
with  dishes."] 

^  When  Lady  Catherine  Grey  was  imprisoned  in  the  Tower  for  her 
secret  marriage  with  the  Earl  of  Hertford  she  took  amongst  her  belong- 
ings some  pet  monkeys.  These  played  havoc  with  the  hangings,  not 
in  first-rate  condition,  with  which,  by  Elizabeth's  order,  the  cheerlcssness 
of  her  prison  apartments  was  mitigated. 


HUBBUB  59 

Bess  [reading  from  the  roll  before  her\  A  pair  of  capons 
stuffed  with  chestnuts. 

Cook.  The  garnishing  has  yet  to  be  done,  my  Lady. 
Bess.  A  brisket  of  pork. 
Cook.  Boy — bring  it  round. 

[A  cook^s  boy  parades  with  the  dish."] 

Bess.  Six  carp — these  should  be  served  hot. 
Cook.  My  Lady,  they  simmer  slowly. 
Bess  [reading].  A  roast  of  beef. 

[Two  boys  parade  it  and  pass  on.] 

Bess  [going  on  with  the  list^  while  the  dishes  are  presented 
in  turn.] 

Hare  with  little  jellies. 

Plover  trussed  and  stuffed. 

Wheaten  cakes. 

A  mess  of  furmity. 

A  heron  stewed.     You  dolts,  this  should  be  heated  ! 

Cook.  My  Lady,  my  Lady — the  ovens  will  heat  it  again 
quickly.  I  brought  it  hither  that  your  Ladyship  should 
taste  the  sauce.     [Presents  a  spoon.     Bess  tastes.] 

Bess.  I  mislike  the  onion.  And  for  a  Queen,  there 
is  too  much  aniseed.  Mark  that  if  the  dish  goes  un- 
touched. 

Cook.  My  Lady,  they  say  this  Queen  will  bring  her 
own  tasting-gentleman. 

Bess.  Surely,  yes,  surely.  Who  will  she  not  bring  .? 
Her  tasting-gentleman  to  see  she  is  not  poisoned  by 
you.  Master  Cook.  Swallow  the  insult  and  say  your 
prayers  and  be  sparing  of  your  herbs  in  future.  You 
were  always  too  set  upon  aniseed,  and  'tis  fit  only  for 
the  colic,  to  my  thinking.     Get  on,  get  on  with  your 


6o  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

dishes.  .  .  .  H*m  !  the  pasties  .  .  .  here  is  only  one  of 
liver.  I  told  Crompe  to  command  two  .  .  .  two  of 
liver  and  two  of  apples.     [The  pasties  are  presented.^ 

Bess.  Fifty  loaves. 

Cook.  Thirty-eight  are  here. 

Bess  [angrily^  Always  something  lacking,  it  seems. 
A  plague,  you  fellows  !  Understand  me.  Cook,  if  the 
castle  goes  hungry  you  shall  go  more  hungry,  and  your 
purse  still  more.  Briskets,  sallets,  eggs,  cheeses — where 
are  they }  Crompe,  here — take  you  the  bill,  and  if 
anything  lacks  you  know  who  shall  first  go  supperless. 
Not  the  Queen,  and  not  your  master  and  lady.  Nor 
the  Queen's  folk  either.  But  you,  Crompe — do  you 
hear  me  }     You  ! 

Crompe  [agitated^  Yes,  my  Lady.  Indeed,  my  Lady. 
...  I  have  made  provision  to  your  order  .  .  .  for 
twenty  persons. 

Bess.  Twenty }     And  I  have  told  you  forty.  .  .  . 

Crompe.  Thirty  beds  said  Mrs.  Glasse. 

Bess.  Mrs.  Glasse  knows  nothing.  Dare  you  scream 
ever  to  me  of  Mrs.  Glasse,  Crompe  .''  [More  quietly.'] 
Listen,  listen.  The  Queen  brings  five  gentlemen — 
hungry  riding  gentlemen  ;  six  gentlewomen — weary 
riding  women.  God  help  us  for  their  airs  and  graces, 
their  wants  and  their  want-nots  !  And  the  gentlemen 
must  have  their  men.  God  help  us  again  !  Three  in 
number  these  men.  And  the  gentlewomen  will  bring 
two  wives  to  wait  on  them,  and  there  will  be  fourteen 
servitors,  three  cooks.  Crompe,  cease  that  arithmetic 
of  your  fingers,  for  it  incenses  me  1 — Four  boys,  ten 
wenches  and  children 

Crompe  [aghast,  counting  on  his  fingers  behind  his  back]. 
'Tis  forty-eight  without  the  children,  my  Lady. 


HUBBUB  6 1 

Bess.  Well,  well,  can  I  not  add  two  and  two  as  well 
as  you,  Crompe  ?  Does  it  help  me  if  you  stand  there 
with  a  mouth  like  a  porringer  ? 

Crompe.  But  the  children,  my  Lady  1 

Bess.  And  the  horses,  Crompe  1 

Crompe.  Then  there  will  be  grooms  also. 

Bess.  Oil  your  wits,  Crompe,  and  think  of  the  grooms. 
Man  alive  !  if  you  stand  in  that  spot  the  world  will  take 
you  for  a  root  of  mandragora,  to  be  torn  out,  howling, 
by  dogs  !  Stir,  stir  !  Do  somewhat,  or,  if  you  cannot 
of  yourself,  remember  you  have  a  mistress,  my  good 
fool  !     [Rustles  out  into  the  corridor.'] 

Crompe  [aside'].  Who  should  ever  forget  it  "i 

2nd  S.JV.  [jumping  up,  points  through  the  casement].  See, 
there  is  something.     A  boy  runs  .  .  .  'tis  a  post.     My 

^'     ^         ^ '  [Re-enter  Lady  Shrewsbury.] 

ind  S.fV.  My  Lady  .  .  .  there  is  a  fire  lighted  on 
that  hill,  and  a  boy  comes  running. 

Bess.  Then  the  Frenchwoman  is  upon  us.  For  God's 
sake  leave  your  stitching,  and  mend  the  rest  with 
pins  and  nails  as  you  best  can  !  The  carpenter  shall 
aid  you.  To  the  Queen's  bedchamber — quick,  quick  ! 
[Drives  them  in  front  of  her.]  Crompe,  you  follow.  .  .  . 
No — go  to  the  stables,  the  kitchens.  Tell  the  men  to 
bring  more  coals  and  bigger  logs.  .  .  .  [Exeunt.  .  .  .  Her 
voice  pursues  the  servants  down  the  corridors.]  Pile  high 
the  fires  !  Higher  !  More  logs  !  Have  the  torches 
ready  !     Pile  high  the  fires  ! 


CHAPTER   V 

MAKE-BELIEVE 

ALL  the  mighty  fuss  and  preparation  aforesaid  sufficed 
only  to  make  Tutbury  barely  habitable.  The  airy, 
pleasant  impressions  of  the  French  Ambassador  were 
literally  castles  in  the  air  compared  with  the  fastness 
itself  to  which  Mary  of  Scotland  travelled.  To  begin 
with,  her  retinue  numbered  sixty  persons,  and  Heaven 
knows  where  they  all  slept  that  first  night.  Mary's  own 
rooms  were  small  enough,  and  she  complained  bitterly  of 
them  and  of  the  condition  of  the  whole  building.  Here 
is  her  description  in  a  subsequent  letter  : — 

"  I  am  in  a  walled  enclosure,  on  the  top  of  a  hill, 
exposed  to  all  the  winds  and  inclemencies  of  heaven. 
Within  the  said  enclosure,  resembling  that  of  the  wood 
of  Vincennes,  there  is  a  very  old  hunting  lodge,  built  of 
timber  and  plaster,  cracked  in  all  parts,  the  plaster  adher- 
ing nowhere  to  the  woodwork  and  broken  in  numberless 
places  ;  the  said  lodge  distant  three  fathoms  or  there- 
abouts from  the  walls,  and  situated  so  low  that  the  ram- 
part of  earth  which  is  behind  the  wall  is  on  a  level  with 
the  highest  point  of  the  building,  so  that  the  sun  can 
never  shine  upon  it  on  that  side,  nor  any  fresh  air  come 
to  it ;  for  which  reason  it  is  so  damp,  that  you  cannot 
put  any  piece  of  furniture  in  that  part  without  its  being 
in  four  days  completely  covered  with  mould.  I  leave 
you  to  think  how  this  must  act  upon  the  human  body  ; 

62 


MAKE-BELIEVE  63 

and,  in  short,  the  greater  part  of  it  is  rather  a  dungeon 
for  base  and  abject  criminals  than  the  habitation  fit  for  a 
person  of  my  quality,  or  even  of  a  much  lower.  .  .  . 
The  only  apartments  that  I  have  for  my  own  person 
consist — and  for  the  truth  of  this  I  can  appeal  to  all  those 
that  have  been  here — of  two  little  rooms,  so  excessively 
cold,  especially  at  night,  that,  but  for  the  ramparts  and 
entrenchments  of  curtains  and  tapestry  which  I  have 
had  made,  it  would  not  be  possible  for  me  to  stay  in 
them  in  the  daytime  ;  and  out  of  those  who  have  sat  up 
with  me  at  night  during  my  illnesses,  scarcely  one  has 
escaped  without  fluxion,  cold,  or  some  disorder." 

As  for  the  gay  hunting  parties  which  had  been  antici- 
pated, the  only  exercise  allowed  her  was  in  a  palisaded 
vegetable  patch  called  by  courtesy  a  garden. 

The  first  fortnight  of  that  time  must  have  placed  a 
severe  strain  on  the  temper  and  endurance  of  the 
autocratic  chatelaine.  She  was  not  to  have  access  to  the 
royal  prisoner,  she  must  obey  the  orders  of  her  gaoler- 
husband,  himself  constantly  on  tenter-hooks  lest  his 
cranky  abode  should  suffer  sudden  attack  from  Mary's 
friends,  lest  sickness  should  attack  her,  or  quarrels  be 
brewed  between  her  motley  household  and  his  own. 
My  Lady  Bess — for  once — must  keep  herself  well  in 
the  background  and  still  contrive  provision  for  that 
big  household.  Doubtless  it  was  she  who  backed  the 
Earl  in  his  determination  to  secure  at  once  an  under- 
standing with  the  English  Queen  as  to  the  household 
expenditure  of  the  prisoner.  He  put  in  a  claim  for 
;^500  as  a  preliminary,  and  a  weekly  allowance  of  £$1 
was  arranged.  Whether  he  received  it  remains  to  be 
seen.     Mary  was  not  yet  entirely  a  prisoner.     That  is 


64  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

to  say  she  did  not  realise  herself  as  one.  Her  sister- 
queen  was  too  crafty  to  permit  that.  Shrewsbury,  who 
found  Mary  calm  and,  at  the  outset,  bearing  household 
inconveniences  cheerfully — hopeful  that  they  were  but 
temporary — gave  her  a  little  leash  here  and  there.  She 
evidently  insisted  on  seeing  Bess  Shrewsbury.  "The 
Queen  continueth  daily  resort  unto  my  wife's  chamber, 
where,  with  the  Lady  Leviston  and  Mrs.  Seaton,  she 
useth  to  sit  working  with  the  needle,  in  which  she  much 
delighteth,  and  in  devising  of  works  ;  and  her  talk  is 
altogether  of  indifferent  and  trifling  matters  without 
ministering  any  sign  of  secret  dealing  and  practice."  So 
wrote  my  Lord  gaoler  to  reassure  all  at  Court  who  might 
suspect  him  of  insuflicient  strictness.  The  fact  is,  a 
long  and  detailed  letter  to  Sir  William  Cecil  from 
Nicholas  White,  the  first  visitor  of  importance  who  had 
spoken  at  length  with  Mary  at  Tutbury,  had  sounded 
the  alarm.  "  If  I,"  says  this  gentleman,  "  might  give 
advice  there  should  be  very  few  subjects  in  this  land 
have  access  to  or  conference  with  this  lady.  For,  beside 
that  she  is  a  goodly  personage  .  .  .  she  hath  withal  an 
alluring  grace,  a  pretty  Scottish  accent,  and  a  searching 
wit  crowned  with  mildness.  Fame  might  move  some  to 
relieve  her,  and  glory  joined  to  gain  might  stir  others  to 
adventure  much  for  her  sake.  Then  joy  is  a  lively 
infective  sense,  and  carrieth  many  persuasions  to  the 
heart  which  ruleth  all  the  rest.  Mine  own  affection  by 
seeing  the  Queen's  majesty,  our  sovereign,  is  doubled, 
and  thereby  I  guess  what  sight  might  work  in  others." 
This  was  the  impression  she  made  on  a  young  and 
gallant  courtier  loyal  enough  to  Elizabeth.  Here,  again, 
she  is  in  the  form  of  a  veritable  problem  as  viewed  by 
her  first  warder,  Knollys,  who  delivered  her  into  Shrews- 


Photo  by  Richard  Kecnc,  Ltd.,  Derby,  froiti  the  picture  at  Hardzfick  Hall 
By  permission  of  his  Grace  the  Duke  of  Devonshire 

MARY  QUEEN   OF   SCOTS 


Page  f4 


MAKE-BELIEVE  65 

bury's  charge.     Knollys  also  pours  out  his  impressions 
to  Cecil  : — 

"  This  lady  and  princess  is  a  notable  woman  ;  she 
seemeth  to  regard  no  ceremonious  honour  beside  the 
acknowledging  of  her  estate  regal  ;  she  sheweth  a  dis- 
position to  speak  much,  to  be  bold,  to  be  pleasant,  and 
to  be  very  familiar.  She  sheweth  a  great  desire  to  be 
avenged  of  her  enemies,  she  sheweth  a  readiness  to 
expose  herself  to  all  perils  in  hope  of  victory,  she 
delighteth  much  to  hear  of  hardiness  and  valiancy, 
commending  by  name  all  approved  hardy  men  of  her 
country,  although  they  be  her  enemies,  and  she  con- 
cealeth  no  cowardice  even  in  her  friends.  The  thing 
that  most  she  thirsteth  after  is  victory,  and  it  seemeth 
to  be  indifferent  to  her  to  have  her  enemies  diminished 
either  by  the  sword  of  her  friends,  or  by  the  liberal 
promises  and  rewards  of  her  purse,  or  by  division  and 
quarrels  raised  among  themselves  :  so  that  for  victory's 
sake  pain  and  peril  seemeth  pleasant  unto  her  :  and  in 
respect  of  victory,  wealth  and  all  things  seemeth  to  her 
contemptible  and  vile.  Now  what  is  to  be  done  with 
such  a  lady  and  a  princess,  or  whether  such  a  princess 
and  lady  to  be  nourished  in  one's  bosom  .''  or  whether 
it  be  good  to  halt  and  dissemble  with  such  a  lady  I  refer 
to  your  judgment." 

It  did  not  take  Shrewsbury  and  his  lady  long  to 
realise  what  they  had  undertaken  to  nourish  in  their 
bosom.  The  great  thing  was  to  distract  her  with  light 
and  little  things.  Of  these  she  had  sufficient  at  first  to 
prevent  her  from  much  brooding  in  the  intervals  of 
writing  her  vivid  and  endless  letters  to  France,  to 
Scotland,    to    Burghley,   and    to    the    English    Queen. 

F 


66  BESS  OF   HARDWICK 

Gentleman  visitors  being  practically  taboo,  there  re- 
mained only  the  Countess  of  Shrewsbury  as  a  set-ofF 
from  Mary's  own  ladies.  These  were  few — Mrs. 
Bruce  and  Lady  Livingston,  who  was  ailing,  while 
of  the  "  four  Maries,"  whose  beauty  and  grace  helped 
to  weave  the  romantic  legend  of  the  vanished  Court  at 
Holyrood,  there  remained  in  the  royal  service  but  one, 
Mary  Seton.  Her  Queen  took  a  special  interest  in 
her,  and  was  very  dependent  on  her.  Mary  Seton 
surely  knew  her  mistress  through  and  through.  Her 
post  must  at  times  have  been  one  of  great  risk  and 
mental  torture.  She  was  constantly  in  personal  attend- 
ance, dealing  with  the  Queen's  wardrobe  and  dressing 
her  hair — for  in  this,  history  says,  she  was  as  clever  as 
any  skilled  perruquier.  Mary  at  first  scarcely  had  a 
rag  to  cover  her.  Two  bits  of  black  velvet  and  some 
darned  underclothing  had  been  doled  out  to  her,  by 
Elizabeth,  on  her  arrival  in  England.  Much  scorn  and 
merriment  they  surely  caused  in  the  Scotch  Queen's 
closet !  Clothing  to  wrap  her,  hangings — that  veri- 
table "rampart"  of  tapestries  of  which  Mary  spoke 
in  the  letter  quoted — were  necessary  for  her  existence, 
and  she  would  have  her  environment  gracious  and 
artistic  even  if  the  tapestries  were  of  sacking.  With 
the  aid,  no  doubt,  of  Bess  the  chatelaine,  some  appear- 
ance of  regality  was  contrived  and  maintained — so  the 
letters  of  the  day  show — as  best  might  be.  The  Shrews- 
burys  had  no  objection  to  that.  Everyone  entered 
apparently  on  the  surface  into  the  little  game  of  make- 
believe  which  "  this  Queen  here  "  (as  she  is  constantly 
described  in  letters  from  the  houses  in  which  she  was 
immured)  played  throughout  the  fifteen  years  of  her 
life    under   the   Earl's    roof.     For   Mary  was    ever   an 


MAKE-BELIEVE  67 

arch -romanticist.  This  sense  of  romance  constituted 
two-thirds  of  her  attraction.  Both  Queens  were  play- 
ing waiting  games,  but  Mary  was  determined  to  play 
hers  effectively  in  spite  of  all  conditions.  And  thus  we 
have  that  vivid  picture  of  her  pretence  court  carried 
on  under  the  eye  of  Bess  Shrewsbury.  The  Scots 
Queen,  seated  on  her  dais  under  her  canopy  bearing 
the  elusive  legend  "  En  ma  fin  est  mon  commence- 
ment," issued  her  orders  touching  her  household,  re- 
ceived eagerly  all  scraps  of  news  which  filtered  through 
to  her  and  any  visitors  that  were  permitted.  But  the 
more  interesting  part  was  that  of  the  Earl's  lady,  who 
stood  as  the  social  barrier  between  the  outer  world,  so 
full  of  stirring  incident,  and  the  mock  court  indoors. 
How  much  to  tell  her  Scottish  majesty  and  how  little, 
what  gossip  to  retail  and  what  to  suppress,  was  no  light 
task  for  a  talkative,  energetic  lady,  who  knew  the  ins 
and  outs  not  only  of  the  English  Court  but  the  char- 
acter of  its  mistress.  Mary  was  always  good  company. 
Elizabeth  gave  her  subjects  plenty  to  talk  about.  One 
wonders,  in  the  light  of  a  certain  letter  which  Mary 
afterwards  wrote  to  the  Queen,  how  far^  Bess  Shrews- 
bury allowed  her  tongue  at  this  juncture  to  trip  out  of 
sheer  vivacity  and  desire  to  please  her  prisoner-guest. 
Just  now,  however,  it  is  too  early  to  imagine  intrigue 
in  this  direction.  The  women  could  safely  discuss 
clothes  and  the  new  fashion  of  doing  the  hair.  Mary 
Seton  was  acknowledged  to  be  the  best  "  busker  of  hair 
in  any  country,"  "  and  every  other  day  she  had  a  new 
device  of  head-dressing,  without  any  cost,  and  yet 
setteth   forth   a  woman    gaily  well."     Mary  loved   her 

^  The  famous  scandal-letter  about  the  Countess  of  Shrewsbury  from 
Mary  to  Elizabeth,  to  which  reference  follows  later. 


68  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

wigs,  her  head-dresses,  embroidery,  her  little  pets, 
and  the  contriving  of  presents  of  needlework.  With 
these  Bess  could  sympathise.  On  occasion  she  wanted 
French  silks,  and  when  Mary  wrote  to  France  a  list  of 
goods  which  she  desired,  she  would  send  for  a  length  of 
silk  for  my  Lady,  and  a  friendly  transaction  took  place 
between  the  two.  Truly  a  charming  relationship  !  And 
all  the  time  Mary  was  not  too  bored,  for  she  was 
writing  love  letters  to  her  new  suitor — the  Duke  of 
Norfolk. 

Let  us  take  in  the  political  situation  for  a  moment. 
It  was  the  spring  of  1569 — just  two  years  since  the 
murder  of  Darnley,  since  when  Mary  had  the  impres- 
sion of  a  procession  of  violent  events  to  wipe  out  of 
her  mind.  Events  since  that  horrible  night  had  travelled 
at  a  wild  speed.  Her  abasement  before  Bothwell,  her 
desperate  game  of  bluff — that  is  to  say,  her  mad  marriage 
with  him,  in  spite  of  the  opposition  of  all  her  friends, 
while  she  yet  wore  her  discreet  mourning  for  the 
wretched  Darnley — her  sudden  awakening  to  bare  reali- 
ties, and  the  shock  of  the  knowledge  that  she  had  given 
herself  wholly  to  a  mere  adventurer,  and  a  brutal  one  at 
that — these  were  some  of  the  sinister  facts  over  which, 
in  this  solitude  and  stillness  of  her  English  life,  she  had 
time  enough  to  brood.  Then  came  the  final  revelation 
of  the  almost  wholesale  perfidy  of  her  Scottish  noble- 
men, and  the  three  weeks  of  her  ghastly  third  honey- 
moon, which  amounted  to  nothing  but  a  preliminary 
imprisonment,  ending  in  the  gross  insults  of  the  popu- 
lace, which  drove  her  distracted  on  her  way  to  the 
fortress  of  Lochleven.  The  detection  and  flight  of 
Bothwell,  her  Scottish  imprisonment,  her  escape  and 
her  flight  to  England — all  these  were  part  of  the  crimson 


MAKE-BELIEVE  69 

pageant  from  which  she  had  emerged,  shattered  in  body, 
soul-worn,  to  face  the  problem  of  her  life.  Her  baby 
boy  was  far  from  her  in  the  hands  of  her  brother  and 
worst  enemy.  Earl  Moray,  the  traitor  to  whom  the 
power  of  Elizabeth  gave  approval  as  regent.  But  Moray 
himself  had  executed  a  volte-face.  For  his  own  purposes 
he  now  assumed  a  highly  moral  and  affectionate  tone 
towards  his  kinswoman.  He  advised  this,  her  fourth 
marriage,  on  the  score  that  it  was  the  best  chance  of 
wiping  out  the  stigma  which  clung  to  her  in  connection 
with  her  passion  for  Bothwell  and  her  illegal  union  with 
him.  "  Take  a  suitable  and  godly  person  to  be  your 
spouse  and  you  will  at  once  assume  a  very  high  place  in 
my  excellent  esteem  "  was  practically  his  attitude.  Mary 
knew  his  power.  Was  not  the  villain  in  constant  inter- 
course with  Cecil,  Elizabeth's  right  hand  ?  She  knew 
also  that  marriage  was  the  only  way  out  of  prison  and 
back  to  her  throne.  Three  husbands  had  failed  her. 
Even  Moray  conceded  that  she  "  had  been  troubled 
in  times  past  with  children,  young,  proud  fools,  and 
furious  men " — the  anaemic  Francis  II,  Darnley,  and 
Bothwell.  As  a  woman  she  could  attract  any  man  she 
chose.  And  the  Duke  of  Norfolk  was  one  of  the 
premier  gentlemen  of  England,  inclined  to  espouse 
her  faith,  and  had  powerful  friends  among  the  nobles 
near  the  Border.  The  plan  was  exciting.  France 
and  Spain  must  back  her  up  in  it.  It  was  very 
difficult  to  send  and  receive  letters.  No  wonder  that 
the  strain  of  this  secret,  with  the  bad  weather  and  the 
difficulties  under  which  the  Tutbury  household  laboured 
of  securing  sufficient  provisions  and  sufficient  fuel  to 
warm  the  cranky  building,  resulted  in  the  illness  of  the 
prisoner. 


70  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

After  much  letter- writing  there  came  from  Court  the 
permission  for  removal  for  which  the  Earl  and  Mary 
longed.  The  household  was  to  take  up  its  abode  now 
atWingfield  Manor.  Away  went  my  Lady  ahead  to  put 
up  the  curtains  and  see  to  the  carpets  and  pallets  and 
other  upholstery,  and  a  week  or  two  later  away  went  the 
cavalcade  after  her.  Her  chatelaine's  art  and  dexterity 
had  freer  play  here.  Wingfield  Manor,  in  its  ruins, 
suggests  a  house  of  grace,  comfort,  and  importance,  well 
proportioned,  and  soundly  built  in  a  stately  manner. 
Even  Mary,  aware  of  its  tolerably  fortified  nature, 
its  guardroom  and  dungeons,  its  massive  keep  and 
earthworks,  conscious  of  the  nightly  sentinels  under  her 
windows,  could  call  it  "  a  fair  palace."  And  my  Lady 
was  surely  in  her  element.  It  was  not  exactly  the  rich 
domestic  peace,  the  family  life  for  which  she  or  her 
husband  had  bargained.  They  were  forced  to  isolate 
themselves  from  their  children  to  a  great  extent,  lest  the 
comings  and  goings  connected  with  their  own  family 
should  entice  strangers  or  messengers  of  doubtful  char- 
acter. But  the  eyes  of  England  were  upon  the  Earl  and 
his  lady.  Where  Mary  was  there  abounded  romance, 
intrigue,  and  mystery.  Spain,  France,  Scotland,  all  were 
watchful,  waiting  for  the  least  news.  And  possibly  the 
Queen's  command  and  the  distinction  conferred  on  the 
Shrewsburys  carried  them  far  along  the  painful  task  on 
which  they  had  embarked.  There  is  no  doubt  that  Bess 
had  a  better  time  of  it  in  the  bargain  than  her  lord. 
The  ultimate  responsibility  was  his.  Moreover,  his  was 
a  nature  conscientious  almost  to  a  morbid  degree.  He 
was  forced  to  receive  attacks  without  and  within  and  to 
keep  his  head  cool.  He  must  report  himself  in  long 
letters  to  Mr.  Treasurer,  he  must  bear  with  the  com- 


MAKE-BELIEVE  71 

plaints  and  entreaties  of  his  captive.  Mary  was  not  so 
much  of  a  prisoner  that  she  could  not  rush  to  his  suite 
of  rooms  and  upbraid  the  authority  by  which  her  Scot- 
tish messengers  were  detained  and  her  letters  examined. 
Her  abuse  and  lamentation,  defiance  and  tears  were 
shared  alike  by  husband  and  wife.  In  reporting  all  this 
in  detail  to  the  Court,  he  insists  upon  the  necessity  of 
his  wife's  co-operation.  In  the  same  breath  he  makes  it 
piteously  clear  that  the  matter  is  not  one  for  diversion 
or  satisfaction  to  either  of  them.  In  this  picture  he 
draws  of  their  joint  life  in  such  letters,  Tutbury  or 
Wingfield  shelters  not  one  prisoner,  but  three.  The 
royal  lady  is  scarcely  a  moment  out  of  their  sight  or 
hearing.  The  only  advantage  of  her  constant  invasion 
of  my  Lady's  chamber  is  that  the  latter  may  watch  her 
the  more  closely  and  report  more  minutely  upon  her 
looks  and  words. 

Already  by  this  time  the  Shrewsburys  could  enter 
into  the  feelings  of  Sir  Francis  Knollys  when  he  longed 
to  shake  off  his  irksome  duties.  Had  the  Earl  fore- 
seen the  extent  of  the  burden  thrust  upon  him  he 
would  have  followed  the  example  of  his  comrade-in- 
arms and  begged  for  instant  release.  All  he  could  and 
did  do,  however,  was  to  endure,  while  protesting  his 
loyalty. 

There  was  excitement  enough  in  store  for  everyone 
when  Mary's  adviser,  the  Bishop  of  Ross,  was  actually 
permitted  to  join  the  Wingfield  household.  This  was 
the  signal  for  the  crowding  of  Scottish  folk  to  the 
vicinity.  These  came  constantly  to  pay  their  court 
to  Mary,  thereby  increasing  all  the  domestic  compli- 
cations of  Earl  and  lady,  to  say  nothing  of  the  added 
cost  in  catering  and  stabling  entailed  by  such  "  traffic." 


72  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

Nor  did  it  help  them  that  Mary  should  fall  ill.  After 
delays  two  physicians  were  sent  from  Court,  and  besides 
insisting  upon  a  thorough  ventilation  and  cleaning  of 
her  apartments  they  advised  her  removal  to  yet  another 
of  the  family  mansions. 

This  time  it  was  to  Chatsworth  that. the  cavalcade 
travelled.  The  busy  Countess  had  not  yet  completed 
her  great  scheme  of  building.  Yet  a  part  of  the  then 
"  new  house "  was  sufficiently  completed  for  use,  and 
though  there  was  as  yet  no  stately  presence  chamber 
here,  nor  ballroom,  nor  great  dining-hall,  as  at  Wing- 
field,  the  surroundings  were  sylvan  and  reassuring, 
and  the  little  raised  and  moated  garden  where  Mary 
would  take  the  air  was  far  more  agreeable  than  the 
tangled  garden  patch  at  Tutbury.  In  May  the  change 
to  the  meadows  by  the  Derwent  must  have  been  de- 
licious. By  June  ist  the  visit  was  ended  and  away 
went  the  cortege  again,  my  Lady  Bess  included,  back  to 
Wingfield.  The  Earl,  for  the  first  time  since  Mary's 
arrival,  took  a  few  days'  leave  of  absence  and  again 
went  to  Chatsworth.  This  brief  absence  immediately 
gave  rise  to  trouble  and  suspicious  reports.  While 
struggling  with  indisposition  he  hurried  back,  and  had 
just  time  to  report  that  all  was  well  at  Wingfield  when 
ague  and  fever  laid  him  low.  His  wife  took  command 
of  the  situation.  His  condition  was  so  critical  that 
she  wrote  to  Cecil  asking  that  some  arrangement  "  for 
this  charge "  should  be  made  in  case  he  should  grow 
worse.  Cecil  took  action  at  once,  but  before  any 
change  in  the  command  at  Wingfield  could  be  made 
the  Earl  was  recovering,  and  his  wife  wrote  to  reassure 
the  Queen,  through  Cecil,  and  put  in  a  word  for  her 
own  loyalty  : — 


MAKE-BELIEVE  73 

"  Of  my  duty  in  all  respects,  God,  that  is  my  witness 
of  my  doings  and  meanings,  will  defend  me,  I  trust, 
against  the  evil  that  malice  would  unto  me.  No  enemy 
would  I  willingly  refuse  to  be  my  judge  in  this  case, 
that  hath  power  to  think  and  speak  truly,  but  most 
heartily  do  I  thank  you  for  your  right  friendly  ad- 
monition, knowing  that  I  cannot  too  much  remember 
my  duty,  like  as  I  would  be  no  less  sorry  if  I  were 
not  persuaded  that  you  did  write  only  of  good  will, 
without  all  cause  of  suspicion.  I  have  hitherto  found 
you  to  be  my  singular  good  friend,  and  so  I  trust 
you  will  continue,  which  God  grant  1  may  requite  to 
my  desire." 

Poor  Shrewsbury  did  not  recover  quickly.  He 
suffered  mentally  as  much  as  bodily  all  through  this 
summer  of  1569,  and  begged  a  few  days'  grace  to  visit 
the  baths  at  Buxton.  This  was  withheld  and  delayed, 
and,  in  despair,  he  went  without  permission.  Immedi- 
ately the  Queen  was  told  of  it  and  instructed  Burghley 
to  pounce  on  him  in  a  letter.  Naturally  he  hurried 
home  full  of  abject  apology,  and,  though  he  found  the 
household  at  Wingfield  tranquil,  was  much  annoyed  at 
the  insanitary  state  of  the  manor  in  consequence  of  the 
number  of  people  in  and  about  it.  A  little  crowd  of 
no  less  than  two  hundred  and  fifty  persons  now  consti- 
tuted the  entourage  of  prisoner.  Earl,  and  Countess. 
In  order  to  wipe  off  all  undesirables,  he  recommended 
another  change  of  domicile — this  time  to  his  estate  of 
Sheffield. 

The  Earl  possessed  two  manors  here — the  Lodge  or 
Manor  on  the  hill,  and  the  Castle  in  the  valley  above 
the    meadows — now  built    over — where   the   Dun   and 


74  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

Sheaf  joined  their  waters.  This  move  was  regarded  as 
a  most  excellent  method  for  change  and  expansion. 
Both  houses  were  habitable,  there  was  good  fishing,  and 
plenty  of  ground  for  exercise  without  going  out  ot 
bounds.  Nothing  was  lacking  now  to  hasten  the  de- 
parture save  the  royal  permission. 


CHAPTER  VI 

PLOT    AND    COUNTERPLOT 

nr^HE  move  to  Sheffield  was  now  abandoned  because 
of  the  desperate  excitement  aroused  in  Elizabeth's 
mind  by  the  disclosure  of  the  love  affair  which  was 
brewing  between  Mary  and  the  Duke  of  Norfolk. 
This  matter  for  some  time  was  not  entirely  a  secret. 
A  certain  number  of  influential  English  nobles  agreed 
with  those  of  Scotland  that  such  a  marriage  would  be  an 
excellent  solution  of  the  entire  Scottish  question.  Even 
Leicester  himself,  adored  of  Elizabeth,  joined  his  opinion 
to  theirs.  And  these  gentlemen  had  drawn  up  a  pro- 
posal to  Mary  of  which  one  clause  runs,  "  Whether, 
touching  her  marriage  with  the  Duke  of  Norfolk  which 
had  been  moved  to  her  by  the  Earl  of  Moray  and 
Lidington,  she  would  wholly  refer  herself  to  the  Queen's 
Majesty  and  therein  do  as  she  would  have  her  and  as 
her  Majesty  did  like  thereof — willing  that  all  things 
should  be  done  for  her  Majesty's  surety,  which  might 
be  best  advised  by  the  whole  Council." 

Her  reply  to  this  document,  especially  to  the  clause 
quoted,  was  clear,  dignified,  and  highly  emphatic.  She 
did  not  doubt  the  English  Queen's  good  faith,  nor  the 
friendship  of  her  nobles,  nor  the  goodwill  and  liking 
of  the  Duke.  She  adroitly  declared  that  she  never 
regarded  marriage  as  a  mere  means  to  recover  power 
and  position,  saying,  *'  1  assure  you  that  if  either  men 

75 


76  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

or  money  to  have  reduced  my  rebels  to  their  due  obedi- 
ence could  have  ticed  me  I  could  have  been  provided 
of  a  husband  ere  now.  But  I  .  .  .  did  never  give 
ear  to  any  such  offer."  She  fully  calculated  what  she 
would  lose  by  this  marriage  in  regard  to  all  her  "friends 
beyond  the  seas."  The  Duke  of  Alva  was  trying  to 
secure  her  co-operation  in  the  invasion  of  England. 
She  was  coquetting  with  the  Duke  of  Anjou.  She  was 
writing  to  Rome.  By  the  document  she  had  signed  she 
laid  aside  all  future  schemes,  while  she  could  still 
nourish  the  secret  hope  that,  once  restored  to  the 
Scottish  throne  in  place  of  her  baby  son,  she  would, 
in  default  of  Elizabeth's  marriage,  inherit  the  throne 
of  England.  The  whole  matter  was  now  on  such  a 
broad  and  amicable  footing  that  apparently  nothing  was 
wanting  but  the  longed-for  "  Bless  you,  my  children  " 
from  the  lips  of  Elizabeth. 

By  September  this  dream  was  rudely  dispelled. 
Norfolk  was  summoned  to  Court,  roundly  abused — 
Elizabeth,  as  one  of  her  courtiers  writes  of  her,  could 
"  storme  passinglie  " — and  poor  Shrewsbury  received 
a  severe  snub.  The  Queen  practically  declared  him 
a  useless  gaoler  :  "  I  have  found  no  reliance  on  my 
Lord  Shrewsbury  in  the  hour  of  my  need,  for  all  the 
fine  speeches  he  made  me  formerly,  yet  I  can  in  no 
wise  depend  on  his  promise."  Therefore  she  added 
two  guards — the  Earl  of  Huntingdon  and  Viscount 
Hereford. 

More  household  complications,  more  goings  and 
comings,  more  trouble  for  Earl  and  Countess  !  Afflicted 
with  chronic  gout  and  irritated  in  every  direction, 
Shrewsbury  decided  to  make  for  Tutbury  again.  A 
tactless   royal   order  addressed   to  Huntingdon   (whom 


PLOT   AND   COUNTERPLOT  77 

Mary  also  hated)  over  the  head  of  Shrewsbury  bred 
fresh  discomfort  and  annoyance  in  the  Castle.  Things 
were,  however,  gradually  smoothed  over.  The  jealousy 
between  Mary's  gaolers  was  allayed  on  the  one  hand 
by  the  news  that  the  Queen's  apprehensions  were 
justified  by  the  disappearance  of  the  Duke  of  Norfolk 
from  Court,  while  the  alarm  of  Mary  was  increased 
fourfold  by  the  cross-questioning  to  which  she  was 
subjected  and  the  news  of  the  sudden  arrest  of  her 
ducal  lover. 

These  were  dramatic  days  which  Bess  of  Shrewsbury 
witnessed.  Letters  were  intercepted,  coffers  suddenly 
searched  in  the  Scots  Queen's  apartments,  there  were 
incursions  of  men  with  "  pistolets,"  constant  dismissals 
of  the  Queen's  people,  sudden  dismissal,  even,  of  the 
Countess's  own  servants.  But  the  gaps  at  the  board 
were  immediately  filled  by  Huntingdon  and  his  retinue, 
for  whom  the  Shrewsburys  were  expected  to  provide 
without  any  increase  of  allowance,  on  the  score  that 
the  present  numbers  of  the  household  did  not  exceed 
those  at  Wingfield  and  elsewhere.  The  irony  of  this, 
added  to  the  suggestions  that  the  Earl  had  been  too 
kind  to  his  prisoner,  and  that  his  request  to  be  allowed 
to  deal  as  before  with  Mary  without  the  assistance  of 
any  other  officer,  sprang  from  some  person  or  persons 
**  too  much  affectionated  to  her,"  created  havoc  in 
Shrewsbury's  mind.  Of  course  he  visited  his  anger 
on  his  colleague  Huntingdon  in  the  form  of  morose 
hints.  In  that  atmosphere  of  wholesale  suspicion  he 
could  not  speak  out  except  in  a  letter  to  head-quarters. 
He  knew  that  Elizabeth's  sinister  expressions  implied 
suspicions  of  his  Countess.  It  is  difficult  to  under- 
stand exactly  what  this  lady  was  "  after,"  in  the  vulgar 


78  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

phrase,  at  this  moment.  For  Mary,  with  whom  she 
had  hitherto  been  on  excellent  terms,  now  distrusted 
her  also.  She  expressed  this  distrust  tout  au  plat, 
as  she  would  say,  to  Walsingham  in  October,  and  told 
him  not  to  attach  any  credit  "to  the  schemes  and 
accusations  of  the  Countess  who  is  now  with  you." 
Apparently  my  Lady  had  left  for  the  Court,  and  was 
there  making  good  her  case  and  her  husband's.  As 
likely  as  not  she  was  furiously  jealous  of  the  authority 
wrested  from  her  husband  in  favour  of  Huntingdon, 
and  overwrought,  like  everyone  else,  by  the  acute 
tension  of  the  situation.  Henceforward  in  the  corre- 
spondence with  Cecil  sturdy  disclaimers  of  treason 
on  the  part  of  Earl  and  lady  are  always  cropping  up. 
The  following  is  from  Shrewsbury  to  Cecil,  October, 
1569:— 

"  Sir, — I  have  received  your  letter,  thinking  myself 
beholden  unto  you  for  your  friendly  care  over  me. 
I  hear  to  my  grief  that  suspicion  is  had  of  over  much 
goodwill  borne  by  my  wife  to  this  Queen  and  of  untrue 
dealing  by  my  men.  For  my  wife  thus  must  I  say, 
she  hath  not  otherwise  dealt  with  that  Queen  than 
I  have  been  privy  unto  and  that  I  have  had  liking 
of,  and  by  my  appointment  hath  so  dealt  that  I  have 
been  the  more  able  to  discharge  the  trust  committed 
unto  me.  And  if  she  for  her  dutiful  dealing  to  her 
Majesty  and  true  meaning  to  me  should  be  suspected 
that  I  am  sure  hath  so  well  deserved,  she  and  I  might 
think  ourselves  fortunate.  And  where  I  perceive  her 
Majesty  is  let  to  understand  that  by  my  wife's  per- 
suasion I  am  the  more  desirous  to  continue  this  charge, 
I  speak  it  afore  God  she  hath  been  in  hand  with  me 
as  far  as  she  durst  and  more  than  I  thought  well  of 


PLOT   AND   COUNTERPLOT  79 

since    my   sickness    to   procure   my  discharge.       I   am 
not  to  .  .  .^  by  her  otherwise  than  I  think  well  of." 

From  the  close  of  this  year  till  the  execution  of  the 
Duke  of  Norfolk  in  1572  the  history  of  George  Talbot 
and  Bess  Hardwick  is  bound  up  with  the  story  of  the 
tissue  of  conspiracies  which  wound  itself  about  Mary. 
The  Norfolk  plot,  with  which  Mary  was  to  be  drawn 
out  of  prison,  was  a  stout  rope  woven  of  many  strands ; 
the  net  which  Cecil  constructed  for  his  prey  was  close- 
meshed  and  wide-spreading.  There  were  constant 
alarums  and  excursions  for  the  Earl  and  his  people. 
He  succeeded  in  getting  rid  of  Huntingdon,  but  he 
was  incessantly  in  fear  of  a  rising  of  the  northern 
nobles  to  whom  Norfolk  had  appealed  for  their  armed 
support ;  and  when  this  fear  was  realised  and  the 
armed  Earls  arrived  within  fifty  odd  miles  of  Tutbury 
a  hasty  removal  was  necessary.  Coventry  was  the 
only  place  which  suggested  itself  until  the  hostile 
demonstration  fizzled  out  and  Tutbury  could  be  re- 
gained. 

The  new  year  found  the  household  re-established 
there.  While  Mary,  in  poor  health,  acted  as  though 
she  had  no  inkling  of  conspiracy,  while  the  Duke 
of  Norfolk  and  the  Bishop  of  Ross,  her  adviser, 
were  in  the  Tower,  miniature  plots  again  disturbed 
the  tenor  of  existence,  and  for  once  the  Earl  was 
permitted  to  choose  his  own  road,  and  to  remove  his 
captive  with  bag  and  baggage  to  Chatsworth. 

This  was  a  pleasanter  place  than  Tutbury  for  the 
inditing  of  love  letters,  as  Mary  found.  But  her  Duke 
was  a  broken  reed.     He  wanted  to  leave  the  Tower,  and 

1  Blank  in  the  MS. 


8o  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

to  Elizabeth  he  vowed  he  would  not  marry  her  rival. 
The  summer  passed  on  and  the  conditions  of  imprison- 
ment at  Chatsworth  fluctuated  from  "  straitness  "  to  in- 
dulgence according  to  the  suspicions  of  Elizabeth  and 
the  reports  of  those  who  were  jealous  spies  of  the  Earl's 
slightest  actions.  Things  assumed  a  more  hopeful  aspect 
in  spite  of  the  discovery  of  another  minor  plot  to  free 
Mary  by  letting  her  down  from  one  of  the  windows  of 
the  Countess's  spacious  and  elegant  house — still  un- 
finished. Elizabeth  about  this  time  actually  con- 
templated Mary's  freedom  and  her  re-establishment  as 
a  sovereign  ;  whereupon  a  treaty  to  this  end  was  care- 
fully discussed  ! 

Negotiations  came  to  such  a  pass  that  Mr.  Treasurer 
himself  was  empowered  to  travel  to  Chatsworth  and 
confer  with  the  prisoner.  He  took  his  wife  with  him, 
and  between  business  and  pleasure  the  visit  passed  oflf 
well.  Cecil  wrote  a  long  and  complimentary  "leaving 
letter  "  on  behalf  of  himself  and  his  wife,  chiefly  inter- 
esting in  this  connection  because  it  indicates  how  Lady 
Shrewsbury  played  her  part  as  hostess. 

"We  have  fully  satisfied  her  Majesty  with  the  pain- 
ful and  trusty  behaviour  of  my  Lady  your  wife  in 
giving  good  regard  to  the  surety  of  the  said  Queen  ; 
wherein  her  Majesty  surely  seemed  to  us  to  be  very 
glad,  and  used  many  good  words,  both  of  your  Lord- 
ship's fidelity  towards  herself,  and  of  the  love  that  she 
thought  my  Lady  did  bear  to  her.  .  .  .  And  thus  I 
humbly  take  my  leave  of  your  Lordship  and  my  Lady, 
to  whom  my  wife  hath  written  to  give  her  thanks  for 
certain  tokens  whereof  I  understood  nothing  afore  she 
told  me  of  them  ;  and  sorry  I  am  my  Lady  should  have 


From  an  engraving  by  W.   T,  Ryall,  after  the  painting  by  Mark  Gerard 
WILLIAM  CECIL.  LORD   BURGHLEY 


Page  So- 


PLOT   AND   COUNTERPLOT  8i 

bestowed  such  things  as  my  wife  cannot  recompense  as 
she  would,  but  with  her  hearty  goodwill  and  service, 
which  shall  always  be  ready  to  her  favour  and  mine  also : 
assuring  yourself  that  to  my  uttermost  I  will  be  to  your 
Lordship  and  to  my  Lady  as  sure  in  good  will  as  any 
poor  friend  you  have." 

Like  all  the  schemes  of  Elizabeth  the  aforesaid  treaty 
hung  fire.  Suspense  and  disappointment  had  their 
usual  result  upon  Mary.  Once  more  she  fell  ill.  Had 
she  died  on  their  hands  Earl  and  Countess  would  have 
been  open  to  the  worst  suspicions.  They  found  them- 
selves always  out  of  pocket  in  regard  to  her  maintenance ; 
they  were  themselves,  obviously,  more  or  less  prisoners 
in  their  own  house ;  they  had  begged  to  be  released  from 
"  this  charge."  In  an  age  when  poisonings  were  rife 
and  assassinations  common  they  would  have  been  sus- 
pected by  all  parties  of  all  sorts  of  foul  play.  Mary's 
loyal  gentleman,  John  Beton,  the  prasgustator,  must 
have  had  enough  to  do  at  this  time  in  tasting  the  dishes 
for  the  daily  menus.  Shrewsbury  meanwhile  kept  a 
sharp  look-out  and  at  once  suggested  change  of  air. 
Mary,  in  spite  of  the  pain  in  her  side,  symptom  of  a 
chronic  malady,  and  one  which  always  attacked  her  when 
she  was  the  least  out  of  health,  was  only  too  ready  to 
move.  This  time  the  destination  was  Sheffield — the 
castle. 

Matters  grew  worse  and  worse  in  regard  to  the 
captive  in  spite  of  all  these  precautions.  Down  came 
the  Bishop  of  Ross — now  set  at  liberty — and  the  Court 
physician,  while  all  the  world  knew  that  for  this  illness 
there  was  but  one  cure — liberty.  Only  intrigue  kept 
Mary  alive  at   the  close  of    1570.     The  rest  of    the 

G 


82  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

spring  and  summer  of  1571  witnessed  her  return  to  the 
proposals  to  the  Duke  of  Norfolk,  the  co-operation  of 
Ridolfi,  the  preparations  by  her  Scottish  partisans,  the 
crystallisation  of  the  plan  of  invasion  by  Philip  of 
Spain.  The  whole  toil  of  this  great  enterprise  was 
nullified  by  the  curiosity  of  a  mere  merchant,  an  in- 
nocent messenger  chosen  to  carry  a  bag  of  money 
destined  to  further  the  plot.  He  mistrusted  the  con- 
tents, carried  the  bag  to  head-quarters,  and  inside  were 
the  incriminating  letters  which  led  to  the  second  im- 
prisonment of  Norfolk  and  the  gradual  unravelling  of 
the  conspiracy.  During  the  lengthy  process  of  examin- 
ing the  many  people  involved  there  were  uneasy 
moments  for  all  sorts  and  conditions  of  men.  It  was 
a  most  uncomfortable  time  for  the  Shrewsburys.  It 
was  open  to  any  of  their  dismissed  servants  who  were 
arrested  to  inculpate  their  former  employers,  and  the 
latter  were  probably  prepared  for  such  contingencies. 
Yet  a  letter  like  the  following  would  descend  upon 
the  Countess  somewhat  like  a  bombshell.  The  man 
Lascelles  mentioned  in  it  was  an  ex-servant  under 
arrest,  and  when  threatened  with  torture  pleaded  guilty 
to  the  charge,  giving  as  excuse  that  what  he  did  was 
known  to  the  Countess. 

"  It  may  please  your  Ladyship, 

"Where  of  late  Bryan  and  Hersey  Lascelles 
having  been  before  my  Lords  of  her  Majesty's  Council, 
it  appeareth  directly  by  the  letters  both  of  the  Queen 
of  Scots  and  of  the  Duke  of  Norfolk  also,  that  Hersey, 
as  he  confessess  also  himself  has  been  a  dealer  some- 
times with  the  Queen  there  by  the  means  of  his  brother's 
being  in  service  there  ;  and  yet  that  his  dealing  was  not 


PLOT   AND   COUNTERPLOT  83 

without  knowledge  of  your  Ladyship,  to  the  end,  as  he 
says,  that  the  same  might  always  be  known.  I  have 
thought  good  to  advertise  your  Ladyship  thereof,  and 
withal  to  pray  you  to  let  me  understand  the  truth  of 
such  matter  as  your  Ladyship  doth  know  of  the  said 
Hersey  Lascelles'  dealings  from  time  to  time  as  par- 
ticularly as  your  Ladyship  can  remember.  And  so  1  take 
my  leave  of  your  Ladyship. 

"From  London,  the  13th  of  October,  1571. 
"  Your  Ladyship's  at  commandment, 

"W.    BURGHLEY. 

"  To  the  right  honourable  and  my  very  good  Lady, 
the  Countess  of  Shrewsbury.     Haste,  haste,  haste." 

A  nice  letter  to  receive  on  a  serene  autumn  day  ! 
Carefully  worded  and  dignified  though  it  is,  it  opens 
up  vistas  of  suspicion  and  treachery.  The  Countess 
was  away,  and  her  lord  had  to  bear  the  first  brunt  of  it 
alone.  Perhaps  this  was  just  as  well,  as  it  gave  him  a 
chance  of  clearing  their  honour  independently.  For, 
of  course,  he  recognised  in  it  an  urgent  official  docu- 
ment. The  reading  must  have  cost  him  a  bad  quarter 
of  an  hour.  There  was  no  time  to  be  lost  in  again 
asserting  his  wife's  integrity.  A  few  seconds  of  miser- 
able suspense  would  possibly  ensue  ere  his  trust  and 
loyalty  conquered  all  fears,  and  he  sat  down  to  write 
first  to  his  wife,  enclosing  the  letter  from  Court,  and 
then  to  tell  Burleigh  that  some  serious  misconstruction 
must  have  been  placed  on  the  fact  that  he  always  em- 
powered his  lady  to  interest  herself  in  such  persons  as 
Lascelles  and  his  doings,  the  better  to  keep  her  spouse 
apprised  of  Mary's  plots  :  "  I  willed  my  wife  to  deal 
with  him  and  others  to  whom  the  Queen  bears  familiar 


84  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

countenance,  so  as  the  better  to  learn  her  intentions." 
To  this  he  adds  a  diplomatic  postscript,  assuring  Bur- 
leigh that  this  letter  is  penned  independently  of  any 
collusion  with  his  wife. 

The  Countess,  fenced  in  by  consciousness  of  inno- 
cence, backed  by  the  sense  of  possession,  and  seated  in 
the  heart  of  her  own  pleasant  estate,  rich  now  in  the 
burnished  glory  of  autumn,  writes  en  grande  dame  from 
Chatsworth  on  October  22nd  : — 

"Your  letters  touching  Henry  Lassells  came  to  my 
hands  after  my  husband  had  answered  them.  I  doubt 
not  you  are  persuaded  of  my  dutiful  service,  but  lest 
you  should  think  any  lack  of  goodwill  to  answer,  I 
thought  it  meet  to  advertise  you  of  my  whole  doings  in 
the  matters. 

"  As  soon  as  I  had  intelligence  that  this  Lassells  had 
some  familiar  talk  with  the  Queen  of  Scotland,  and 
that  my  Lord  thereupon  had  laid  watch  to  his  doings, 
this  Lassells  belike  suspecting  of  my  knowledge  thereof, 
desired  that  he  might  offer  unto  me  some  special  matter 
touching  that  Queen,  with  great  desire  that  I  should  in 
no  wise  utter  it,  for,  saith  he,  she  hath  most  earnestly 
warned  me  not  to  tell  you  of  all  creatures.  I  then 
hoping  to  hear  of  some  practice,  answered  him  that  he 
might  assure  himself  not  only  to  be  harmless,  but  to  be 
well  rewarded  also  at  the  Queen  Majesty's  hands,  and 
of  my  Lord,  if  he  would  plainly  and  truly  show  of  her 
doings  and  devices,  meet  to  be  known.  Then  he  told 
me  with  many  words  that  she  pretended  great  goodwill 
unto  him,  and  of  good  liking  of  him,  and  that  she 
would  make  him  a  lord,  but,  saith  he,  I  will  never  be 
false  to  the  Queen's  Majesty,  nor  to  my  Lord,  my  master. 


PLOT  AND   COUNTERPLOT  85 

Further  than  this  I  could  not  learn  of  him.  Then  I 
warned  him  to  remember  his  duty  and  to  beware  of  her, 
and  that  she  sought  to  abuse  him,  and  that  I  knew  for 
certain  that  she  did  hate  him.  He  said  then  that  he 
would  take  heed,  and  advertise  me  of  all  that  he  could 
learn.  After  this  he  came  to  me  again,  and  told  me  of 
her  familiar  talk  as  before,  and  of  no  further  matter, 
saving  that  he  said  that  he  told  her  how  he  marvelled 
that  she  could  love  the  Duke,^  having  so  foul  a  face,  and 
that  she  answered  that  she  could  like  him  well  enough, 
because  he  was  wise.  Then  I  warned  him  again  more 
earnestly  than  I  did  before,  and  told  him  of  her  hatred 
towards  him.  Then  he  seemed  to  credit  me.  Albeit  a 
while  after  he  desired  me  by  his  letters  to  certify  him 
how  I  knew  she  hated  him,  for,  saith  he,  if  she  so  do 
she  is  the  falsest  woman  living.  Then  my  Lord  and  1 
perceiving  his  mind  so  fondly  occupied  on  her  and 
knowing  him  to  be  both  vain  and  glorious,  and  that  he 
was  more  like  to  be  made  an  instrument  to  work  harm 
than  to  do  good,  my  Lord  despatched  him  out  of  service, 
as  he  hath  divers  others  upon  suspicion  at  sundry  times. 
This  came  to  my  knowledge  about  Candlemas,  next 
after  the  Northern  rebellion,  and  he  was  put  away  about 
Easter  following,  I  never  knew  of  any  dealing  between 
the  Queen  and  the  Duke  of  Norfolk,  either  by  Lassells 
or  anyone  else.  If  I  had  I  trust  you  think  I  would 
have  discovered  it," 

It  is  not  surprising  that  the  Earl's  wife  kept  aloot 
for  a  while  and  preferred  Chatsworth  just  now. 
Sheffield  was  a  regular  dungeon  :  the  Scottish  Queen 
was  only  allowed  to  take  an  airing  on  the  leads.     No 

1  Of  Norfolk. 


86  BESS   OF  HARDWICK 

domestic  cheerfulness  was  possible,  no  social  intercourse, 
and  every  letter  sent  or  received  was  a  source  of 
anxiety. 

Both  for  the  sake  of  social  decency  and  because  of 
the  necessity  to  impress  the  always  scandalous  world 
with  her  conjugal  devotion,  the  Countess  however 
returned  presently  to  the  fortress  and  took  up  her 
share  of  the  daily  burden  of  wardenship. 

Her  presence  was  more  than  ever  necessary  now. 
The  Duke  of  Norfolk's  trial  was  fixed  for  a  date  early 
in  the  New  Year,  and  the  Earl's  assistance  thereat  was 
indispensable,  for  he  was  made  Lord  High  Steward  of 
England  in  the  place  of  the  arraigned  nobleman.  The 
command  at  Sheffield  was  therefore  temporarily  assigned, 
not  to  Huntingdon  this  time,  but  to  Sir  Ralph  Sadler. 
He  arrived,  the  Earl  left  for  London,  and  Bess  Shrews- 
bury remained  to  keep  a  hand  upon  the  situation  and 
play  her  own  cards.  She  did  this  incessantly  till  her 
husband's  return.  Circumstances  gave  her  most  ex- 
cellent opportunities  for  making  a  good  impression  on 
Sadler.  It  was  her  business  to  walk  on  those  leads 
of  the  now  vanished  castle  with  the  prisoner  and  to 
carry  her  daily  such  news  as  it  was  considered  well  to 
communicate.  There  was  very  little  variety  in  the 
days.  When  the  weather  was  bad  Mary  kept  to  her 
rooms.  When  it  improved  she  took  her  airing,  but 
had  not  much  refreshment  for  her  eyes.  There  was 
little  to  do  on  the  leads  but  stroll  to  and  fro,  gazing 
at  Sheffield  Lodge  on  the  hill,  or  at  the  water  and 
meadows  below.  And  for  the  ear  there  was  nothing 
beyond  music  on  the  virginals  to  charm  it,  no  sounds 
to  distract  the  country  silence,  except  the  opening  and 
closing  of  the  castle  gates,  and  the   roll  of  the  drum 


Front  the  picture  in  the  possession  of  the  Duke  of  Xorfolk 

THOMAS   HOWARD,   DUKE   OF  NORFOLK 


Page  86 


PLOT  AND   COUNTERPLOT  87 

at  six  o'clock  morning  and  evening,  when  the  watches 
were  set  and  the  password  given. 

To  all  who  are  students  of  the  latter  years  of  Mary's 
life  the  letters  of  Sir  Ralph  Sadler,  written  during  this 
time,  must  be  familiar.  His  whole  attention  is  naturally 
concentrated  on  the  interesting  captive,  but  here  and 
there  we  get  side  glimpses  of  Lady  Shrewsbury  and  her 
power  as  a  kind  of  self-ordained  lady  of  the  bedchamber 
to  Mary. 

The  news  of  Norfolk's  death  sentence  was  not  long 
in  coming.  The  Earl  of  Shrewsbury  himself  had  to 
pronounce  it  with  true  and  bitter  tears,  and  Cecil, 
now  Lord  Burghley,  at  once  wrote  to  Sheffield. 
A  fact  so  important  must  be  communicated  to  Mary 
at  once.  It  was  due  to  her  both  as  Norfolk's  accom- 
plice and  as  a  prisoner  of  quality.  It  was  highly 
important  that  the  effect  of  it  on  her  should  be  gauged 
and  duly  reported.  For  this  sweet  errand  the  Countess 
was  chosen.  A  previous  announcement  had,  however, 
reached  her,  and  took  the  wind  out  of  the  Countess's 
sails.  What  a  situation!  She  found  the  Queen  "all 
bewept  and  mourning,"  and  had  the  doubtful  taste  to 
ask  "  what  ailed  her."  Mary,  with  great  dignity  and 
pathos,  replied  that  she  was  sure  that  the  Countess 
must  already  know  the  cause  and  would  sympathise, 
and  she  expressed  further  her  intense  grief  lest  any- 
thing she  had  written  to  Elizabeth  on  behalf  of  Norfolk 
had  brought  him  and  her  other  friends  to  such  a  pass. 
The  Countess  had  common  sense,  and  her  rejoinder  was 
logical  and  undoubtedly  correct,  but  she  need  not  have 
hit  quite  so  hard  as  in  her  reply,  quoted  by  Sadler. 
For  a  woman  of  imagination — and  imagination  of  a 
practical    kind   Bess   Shrewsbury   certainly   possessed — 


88  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

it  was  a  cruel  answer,  and  not  the  least  part  of  the 
cruelty  was  the  scathing  condemnation  of  one  who 
she  knew  might  have  been  Mary's  husband.  It  seems 
to  have  crushed  Mary.  She  could  bear  no  further 
discussion  of  the  matter,  and  withdrew  into  herself  to 
nurse  her  sorrow.  "  And  so  like  a  true  lover  she 
remaineth,  still  mourning  for  her  love,"  wrote  Sadler, 
much  touched  by  her  attitude.  This  letter  of  his  is 
graphic  enough  to  be  quoted  in  full  : — 

"  Please  it,  your  Lordship, 

"  The  posts  whether  they  work  or  play  have 
their  hire,  and  therefore  I  spare  not  their  labour  though 
I  have  none  other  occasion  than  to  advertise  your  L. 
that  all  is  well  here  concerning  this  charge,  and  that 
yesterday  I  received  your  letters  of  the  17th  of  this 
present  (for  which  I  most  heartily  thank  your  L.), 
together  with  a  brief  discourse  of  the  Duke's  arraign- 
ment and  condemnation,  which  I  forthwith  imparted 
unto  my  Lady  of  Shrewsbury  to  the  end  she  might  take 
occasion  to  make  this  Queen  understand  of  the  same  ; 
and  also  I  gave  it  out  to  the  gentlemen  in  this  House 
both  what  number  of  the  Nobility  did  pass  upon  his 
trial,  and  also  that  his  offences  and  treasons  were  such, 
and  so  manifestly  and  plainly  proved,  that  all  the  noble 
men  did  not  only  detest  the  same,  but  also  without  any 
manner  of  scruple  objected  by  common  consent  every- 
one of  them  did  pronounce  him  guilty.  Which,  being 
put  abroad  here  in  the  house  after  this  sort,  was 
brought  unto  the  knowledge  of  this  Queen  by  some 
of  her  folk  which  heard  it,  before  my  Lady  came  unto 
her,  for  the  which  this  Queen  wept  very  bitterly,  so 
that  my  Lady  found  her  all  to  be  wept  and  mourning, 


PLOT  AND   COUNTERPLOT  89 

and  asking  her  what  she  ailed,  she  answered  that  she 
was  sure  my  Lady  could  not  be  ignorant  of  the 
cause,  and  that  she  could  not  but  be  much  grieved, 
to  understand  of  the  trouble  of  her  friends,  which 
she  knew  did  fare  the  worse  for  her  sake,  for  sure 
she  was  that  the  Duke  fared  the  worse  for  that  which 
she  of  late  had  written  to  the  Q.  Majesty  ;  and  said 
further  that  he  was  unjustly  condemned,  protesting 
that  as  far  as  ever  she  could  perceive  by  him  or  for 
anything  she  knew  he  was  a  true  man  to  the  Queen  her 
sister  :  but  being  answered  by  my  Lady  that  as  she 
might  be  sure  that  whatsoever  she  had  written  to  the 
Q.  Majesty  could  do  the  Duke  neither  good  nor  harm 
touching  his  condemnation,  so  if  his  offences  and 
treasons  had  not  been  great  and  plainly  proved  against 
him  those  noble  men  which  passed  upon  his  trial  would 
not  for  all  the  good  on  earth  have  condemned  him. 
She  thereupon  with  mourning  there  became  silent,  and 
had  no  will  to  talk  any  more  of  the  matter,  and  so  like 
a  true  lover  she  remaineth  still  mourning  for  her  love. 
God,  I  trust,  will  put  it  into  the  Queen  Majesty's  heart 
so  to  provide  for  herself  that  such  true  lovers  may 
receive  such  rewards  and  fruits  of  their  love  as  they 
have  justly  deserved  at  her  Majesty's  hands. 

"  All  the  last  week  this  Queen  did  not  once  look  out 
of  her  chamber,  hearing  that  the  Duke  stood  upon 
his  arraignment  and  trial,  and  being  troubled  by  all 
likelihood  by  a  guilty  conscience  and  fear  to  hear  of  such 
news  as  she  hath  now  received.  And  my  presence 
is  such  a  trouble  unto  her  that  unless  she  come  out 
of  her  chamber  I  come  little  at  her,  but  my  Lady  is 
seldom  from  her,  and  for  my  part  I  have  not  since 
my  coming  hither  so  behaved  myself  towards  her  as 


90  BESS  OF   HARDWICK 

might  justly  give  her  occasion  to  have  any  such  mis- 
liking  of  me  :  though  indeed  1  would  not  rejoice  at  all 
of  it,  if  she  had  any  better  liking.  But  though  she 
like  not  of  me  yet  I  am  sure  this  good  lady  and  all  the 
gentlemen  and  others  of  this  house  do  like  well  enough 
of  me  :  which  doth  well  appear  by  their  courteous  and 
gentle  entertainment  of  me  and  mine.  My  Lord  hath 
a  costly  guest  of  me,  for  I  and  my  men  and  36  horses 
of  mine  do  all  lie  and  feed  here  at  his  charge,  and 
therefore  the  sooner  he  come  home  the  better  for  him. 
Trusting  his  L.  be  now  on  the  way  and  therefore 
I  forbear  to  write  to  him.  But  if  he  be  there,  it  may 
please  you  to  tell  him  that  all  is  well  here,  and  that  my 
Lady  and  I  do  long  to  see  his  L.  here.  And  as 
I  doubt  not  she  would  most  gladly  have  him  here,  so 
I  am  sure  she  cannot  long  for  him  more  than  I  do, 
looking  hourly  to  hear  some  good  news  from  your 
L.  of  my  return.  And  so  I  beseech  Almighty  God 
to  preserve  and  keep  you  in  long  life  and  health,  and  to 
increase  you  in  honour  and  virtue.  From  Sheffield 
Castle  the  21st  of  January  at  night  1571.  With  the 
rude  hands  of 

"  Your  L.  to  command  as  your  own 

"  R.  Sadler. 

"To  the  right  honourable  and  my  very  good  lord, 
my  Lord  of  Burghley,  of  the  Queen  Majesty's 
Privy  Council." 

Never  was  the  contrast  between  the  two  principal 
ladies  in  Sheffield  Castle  so  marked  as  at  this  moment. 
Mary  mourns  for  Norfolk,  for  the  ruin  of  her  hopes, 
for  the  treaty  of  freedom  which  now  can  never  be 
carried    through.      Bess    sails    about   the   castle   aware 


^    w^r 


iT 


PLOT   AND   COUNTERPLOT  91 

of  everything  at  Court  and  at  home  ;  the  posts  bring 
her  affectionate  letters  from  the  Earl,  while  her  children 
and  his  flourish  under  their  respective  tutors.  Chats- 
worth  is  still  a-building,  and  she  signs  orders  for  stone 
and  wood  and  coal  and  fodder.  She  was  a  good  hostess 
to  Sadler,  and  when  he  relinquished  his  duties  gladly 
enough  in  February,  upon  the  Earl's  return,  he  was 
positive  that  Lady  Shrewsbury  was  deserving  of  great 
commendation  and  "  condign  thanks  "  for  the  manner  in 
which  she  filled  her  important  position.  She  was  very 
much  of  a  personage,  and  her  correspondence  exhibits 
very  few  of  the  traits  usually  described  as  "  feminine," 
while  her  friends  fully  estimated  her  influence  and  her 
interest  in  the  larger  events.  The  following  lengthy 
letter  gives  the  complexity  of  the  political  situation,  and 
though  of  course  it  belongs  to  a  date  previous  to  the 
execution  of  Norfolk,  is  placed  here  as  an  illustration 
of  the  stirring  times  in  which  the  great  lady  lived  and  the 
events  which  had  happened  during  the  first  year  or  two 
of  her  fourth  marriage.  It  is  unsigned,  and  is  evidently 
from  some  connection  or  possibly  a  gentleman  of  the 
Shrewsbury  household,  who  is  keeping  his  ears  and 
eyes  wide  open  at  Court : — 

"  To  the  Countess  of  Shrewsbury, 

"  My  most  humble  duty  remembered  unto  your 
honourable  good  lord.  May  it  please  the  same  to 
understand  that  I  have  sent  you  herein  enclosed  the 
articles  of  peace  concluded  and  proclaimed  through  all 
France,  in  French,  because  they  are  not  at  this  hour  to 
be  had  in  English  (which  are  translated  and  in  printing), 
and  if  the  peace  be  kept,  the  Protestants  be  indifferently 
well.     The  great  sitting  is  done  at  Norwich  ;  and,  as  I 


92  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

do  hear  credibly,  that  Appleyard,  Throgmorton,  Red- 
man, and  another  are  condemned  to  be  hung,  drawn, 
and  quartered  ;  and  Hobart  and  two  more  are  con- 
demned to  perpetual  imprisonment,  with  the  loss  of 
all  their  goods  and  lands  during  their  lives.  The  four 
condemned  for  high  treason,  and  the  other  for  reconcile- 
ment. They  were  charged  of  these  four  points  :  the 
destruction  of  the  Queen's  person  ;  the  imprisonment 
of  my  Lord  Keeper,  my  Lord  of  Leicester,  Secretary 
Cecil ;  the  setting  at  liberty  out  of  the  Tower  the  Duke 
of  Norfolk  ;  and  the  banishment  of  all  strangers  ;  and 
it  fell  out  in  their  examination  that  they  would  have  im- 
prisoned Sir  Christopher  Haydon  and  Sir  William  Butts, 
the  Queen's  Lieutenants.  None  of  them  could  excuse 
themselves  of  any  of  the  four  points,  saving  Appleyard 
said  he  meant  nothing  towards  the  Queen's  person  ;  for 
that  he  meant  to  have  had  them  to  a  banquet,  and  to 
have  betrayed  them  all,  and  to  have  won  credit  thereby 
with  the  Queen.  Throgmorton  was  mute,  and  would 
say    nothing   till   he  was    condemned,   who   then   said, 

*  They  are  full  merry  now  that  will  be  as  sorry  within 
these  few  days.'  Mr.  Bell  was  attorney  for  Mr. 
Gerrard,  he  being  one  of  the  Judges,  and  Mr.  Bell 
alleged  against  Appleyard  that  he  was  consenting  to  the 
treason  before  ;  alleging  one  Parker's  words,  that  was 
brought  prisoner  with  Dr.  Storey  out  of  Flanders,  that 
Parker  heard  of  the  treason  before  Nallard  came  over 
to  the  Duke  of  Alva.  And  there  stood  one  Bacon  by 
that  heard  Parker  say  so  :  my  Lord  offered  a  book  to 
Bacon  for  to  swear  :  *  O,  my  Lord,'   said   Appleyard, 

*  will  you  condemn  me  of  his  oath  that  is  registered  for 
a  knave  in  the  Book  of  Martyrs  .'' ' 

"  They    had  set  out  a  proclamation,   and   had   four 


PLOT  AND   COUNTERPLOT  93 

prophecies  ;  one  was  touching  the  wantonness  of  the 
Court,  and  the  other  touching  this  land  to  be  conquered 
by  the  Scots  ;  and  two  more  that  I  cannot  remember. 
There  were  many  in  trouble  for  speaking  of  seditious 
words.  Thomas  Cecil  said  that  the  Duke  of  Norfolk 
was  not  of  that  religion  as  he  was  accounted  to  be  : 
and  that  his  cousin  Cecil  was  the  Queen's  darling,  who 
was  the  cause  of  the  Duke  of  Norfolk's  imprisonment, 
with  such  like ;  who  is  put  off  to  the  next  assize. 
Anthony  Middleton  said,  '  My  Lord  Morley  is  gone  to 
set  the  Duke  of  Alva  into  Yarmouth,  and  if  William 
Keat  had  not  accused  me,  Throgmorton,  and  the  rest 
we  had  had  a  hot  harvest ;  but  if  the  Duke  of  Norfolk 
be  alive,  they  all  dare  not  put  them  to  death.'  Metcalf 
said  that  he  would  help  the  Duke  of  Alva  into  Yar- 
mouth, and  to  wash  his  hands  in  the  Protestants'  blood. 
Marsham  said  that  my  Lord  of  Leicester  had  two 
children  by  the  Queen  :  and  for  that  he  is  condemned 
to  lose  both  his  ears,  or  else  pay  ;^ioo  presently. 
Chiplain  said  he  hoped  to  see  the  Duke  of  Norfolk  to 
be  King  before  Michaelmas  next,  who  doth  interpret 
that  he  meant,  not  to  be  King  of  England,  but  to  be 
King  of  Scotland. 

"  Mr.  Bell  and  Mr.  Solicitor  said  both  to  this  effect 
to  the  prisoners — '  What  mad  fellows  were  ye,  being 
all  rank  Papists,  to  make  the  Duke  of  Norfolk  your 
patron  that  is  as  good  a  Protestant  as  any  is  in  Eng- 
land :  and,  being  wicked  traitors,  to  hope  of  his  help 
to  your  wicked  intents  and  purposes,  that  is  as  true 
and  as  faithful  a  subject  as  any  that  is  in  this  land, 
saving  only  that  the  Queen  is  minded  to  imprison  him 
for  his  contempt.'  Doctor  Storey  is  at  Mr.  Arch- 
deacon   Watts'    house,    in    custody,    besides     Powels. 


94  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

Thurlby,  late  Bishop  of  Ely,   died  this  last  week  at 
Lambeth. 

"  The  Spanish  Queen  is  arrived  in  the  Low  Countries, 
and  will  embark  as  soon  as  may  be.  The  Emperor  is 
setting  forward  his  other  daughter  towards  Metz  to  be 
married  to  the  French  King.  It  is  written,  by  letters 
of  the  28th  of  the  last,  from  Venice,  that  the  Turk  has 
landed  in  Cyprus  100,000  men,  or  more,  and  has  be- 
sieged two  great  cities  within  that  kingdom,  Nicocia 
and  Famagosta.  At  one  assault  at  Famagosta  they  lost 
12,000  men  ;  upon  the  which  repulse  the  Begler  Bey  of 
Natolia,  the  General  of  the  Turk's  army,  wrote  to  the 
great  Turk,  his  master,  that  he  thought  it  was  invincible. 
He  answered  that,  if  they  did  not  win  it  before  they 
came,  they  should  be  put  to  the  sword  at  their  return 
home.  The  Turk  has  sent  another  army  by  land  against 
the  Venetians,  into  Dalmatia,  and  are  besieging  Zara 
with  20,000  footmen  and  20,000  horsemen,  and  divers 
towns  they  have  taken,  as  Spalator,  Elisa,  Eleba,  and 
Nona,  with  great  spoil  and  bloodshed  :  and  it  is  written 
that  the  Turk's  several  armies  are  above  200,000  men 
against  the  Venetians.  The  men  first  sent  by  the 
Venetians  fell  so  into  diseases  by  the  way  as  they  were 
fain  to  prepare  new  men,  which  is  thought  will  hardly 
come  to  do  any  good  in  Cyprus.  A  man  may  see  what 
account  is  to  be  made  of  these  worldly  things,  as  to  see 
in  a  small  time  the  third  state  of  Christendom,  in 
security,  power,  and  wealth,  to  be  in  danger  of  utter 
overthrow  in  one  year. 

"  They  say  my  Lord  of  Leicester  hath  many  workmen 
at  Kenilworth  to  make  his  house  strong,  and  doth  fur- 
nish it  with  armour,  ammunition,  and  all  necessaries  for 
defence.    And  thus  Jesus  have  my  Lord,  and  your  Lady- 


PLOT   AND   COUNTERPLOT  95 

ship,  and  my  friends  in  his  tuition,  to  God's  pleasure. — 
Scribbled  at  London,  the  last  of  August,  1570. 

"  Your  good  Ladyship's  ever  to  command  during  life. 

"To  the  right  honourable  Countess  of  Shrewsbury 
at  Chatsworth,  or  where." 

Life  fell  once  more  into  its  old  groove.  No  large 
conspiracy  could  be  feared  yet,  in  spite  of  Elizabeth's 
postponement  of  Norfolk's  execution.  But  there  re- 
mained always  the  undercurrent  of  lesser  "practices." 
Earl  and  Lady  had  their  hands  always  full  with  detective 
work  of  this  kind.  Priests  and  conjurers,  pedlars, 
porters,  and  even  schoolmasters  formed  the  roll  of  sus- 
pects. Scouts  were  always  at  work  following  their 
movements,  hanging  about  taverns  to  hear  gossip  which 
might  betray  their  doings,  and  searchers  were  employed 
to  pounce  upon  any  scrap  of  written  stuff  which  might 
prove  valuable  "  copy."  Some  of  the  most  emphatic 
witnesses  against  Mary — her  own  letters  of  conspiracy — 
were  actually  found  hidden  under  a  stone  on  a  bit  of 
waste  ground.  The  messenger  charged  with  them  durst 
not  carry  them  further  at  that  moment  and  before  he 
could  remove  them  they  were  discovered.  It  was  about 
this  time  that  she  was  given  permission  to  take  her  air- 
ing further  than  the  leads  and  to  walk  out  in  the  open. 
The  snow  lay  on  the  ground  and  soaked  her  to  the 
ankles,  but  she  bore  it  cheerfully,  and  one  wonders  if  she 
had  knowledge  of  those  hidden  letters  and  whether  she 
nourished  a  wild  hope  of  finding  them  in  their  niche  and 
setting  them  safely  on  their  way.  Secret  and  sinister 
were  the  warnings  which  Earl  and  Lady  shared  in  that 
long  cold  spring  at  Sheffield.  All  travellers  from  across 
the    Border    were    duly   catalogued    by    the    northern 


96  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

authorities  and  word  passed  from  mouth  to  mouth  of 
their  appearance  and  activities.  This  was  the  sort  of 
despatch  which  reached  the  castle  :  "  A  certain  boy 
should  come  lately  out  of  England  with  letters  to  the 
castle  of  Edinburgh  and  is  to  return  back  again  within 
three  or  four  days.  ...  It  were  not  amiss  that  my  Lord 
of  Shrewsbury  had  warning  of  him.  His  letters  be 
secured  in  the  buttons  and  seams  of  his  coat.  His  coat 
is  of  black  English  frieze,  he  hath  a  cut  on  his  left  cheek, 
from  his  eye  down,  by  the  which  he  may  be  well  known." 

All  the  dodges  of  such  envoys — from  the  stitching  of 
letters  into  linings  and  the  hiding  of  a  written  message 
under  the  setting  of  a  jewel  to  the  use  of  bags  with 
double  bottoms  where  despatches  could  be  kept  "  safe 
from  wet  and  fretting"  and  sight — were  known  to  the 
Shrewsburys.  An  evening  spent  in  the  kitchens  and 
guardroom,  an  hour  or  so  of  conference  with  my  Lady 
would  open  to  reader  and  writer  alike  a  world  of  sensa- 
tional gossip  "  palpitating  with  actuality."  The  captive 
Queen's  precarious  health  was  a  constant  subject  of  dis- 
cussion. Shrewsbury's  letters  were  bound  to  be  full  of 
it.  Mary,  who  once  more  began  to  bombard  Elizabeth 
with  letters,  suggested  a  trial  of  Buxton  waters.  She 
also  busied  herself  anew  with  embroidery,  contrived 
gifts  for  the  Queen,  and  sent  her  a  large  consignment  of 
French  stuffs  and  silks.  When  packages  of  this  kind 
arrived  from  France  the  Earl  was  always  on  the  look- 
out. So  careful  was  he  in  regard  to  his  wife's  share  in 
such  parcels  that  he  would  not  let  her  receive  and  pay 
for  such  goods  until  he  had  first  communicated  the 
exact  details  of  the  transaction  to  his  royal  mistress. 

Neither  French  taffetas  nor  little  embroidered  caps 
could  alter  the  decision  of  the  Privy  Council  and  reverse 


PLOT   AND   COUNTERPLOT  97 

the  position  of  the  axe  in  regard  to  the  Duke  of 
Norfolk.  His  death  took  place  in  the  glory  of  the 
early  summer  of  1572.  Mary  mourned  and  her  health 
grew  worse  and  worse.  Yet,  just  when  change  was 
planned  for  her,  and  the  castle  had  reached  a  condition 
almost  too  insanitary  to  endure,  the  news  came  of  the 
massacre  of  St.  Bartholomew.  "  These  French  tragedies 
and  ending  of  unlucky  marriage  with  blood  and  vile 
murders  cannot  be  expressed  with  tongue  to  declare  the 
cruelties.  .  .  .  These  fires  may  be  doubted  that  their 
flames  may  come  both  hither  and  into  Scotland,  for  such 
cruelties  have  large  scopes.  .  .  .  All  men  now  cry  out 
of  your  prisoner,"  wrote  Burghley  to  the  Earl  under 
supreme  agitation.  To  which  the  latter  replies  later, 
"These  are  to  advertise  you  that  the  Queen  remains 
still  within  these  four  walls,  in  safe  keeping."  The 
woods  and  wolds,  he  explains,  are  being  scoured  by  his 
spies,  and  the  number  of  the  guard  is  increased  by 
thirty.  Clang  of  gate,  clash  of  steel,  roll  of  drum — the 
household  music  of  the  Shrewsburys  knew  nothing 
more  harmonious  than  these  noises.  At  stated  inter- 
vals we  hear  the  old  burthen  of  sturdy  self-vindication 
in  such  letters  as  the  following  to  Burghley  : — 

"  My  very  good  Lord, 

"  I  heartily  thank  your  good  Lordship  for  seek- 
ing to  satisfy  her  Majesty  in  some  doubts  she  might 
conceive  of  me  and  my  wife,  upon  information  given 
to  her  Majesty  ;  your  Lordship  therein  doeth  the  part 
of  a  faithful  friend  ;  so  I  have  always  trusted,  and  you 
shall  receive  no  dishonour  thereby.  My  services  and 
fidelity  to  her  Majesty  are  such  as  I  am  persuaded  with 
assured  hope  that  her  Majesty,  having  proofs  enough 
thereof,  condemneth    those  who    so    untruly   surmise, 

H 


98  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

against  my  wife  first,  and  now  myself,  either  of  us 
undutiful  dealing  with  this  Queen  or  myself  of  any 
carelessness  in  regard  my  charge.  As  before  I  crave 
trial  of  whosoever  is  here  noted  of  any  indirect  dealing 
with  this  Queen,  so  do  I  again  require  at  your  Lord- 
ship's hands  to  be  amenable  to  her  Majesty  for  due 
proof  and  punishment,  as  they  merit,  that  her  Majesty 
might  be  fully  satisfied  and  quiet.  And  for  my  riding 
abroad  sometimes  (not  far  from  my  charge)  in  respect  of 
my  health  only  ;  it  has  been  well  known  to  your  Lord- 
ship from  the  first  beginning  of  my  charge,  and  it  is 
true  I  always  gave  order  first  for  safe  keeping  of  her 
with  a  sure  and  stronger  guard,  both  within  my  house 
and  further  off,  than  when  myself  was  with  her.  I 
trusted  none  in  my  absence  but  those  I  had  tried  ;  true 
and  faithful  servants  unto  me,  and  like  subjects  to  her 
Majesty.  I  thank  God  my  account  of  this  weighty 
charge  is  ready,  to  her  Majesty's  contentation.  No 
information  nor  surmise  can  make  me  shrink.  Never- 
theless, henceforth  her  Majesty's  commandment  for 
my  continual  attendance  upon  this  lady  shall  be  obeyed, 
as  her  Majesty  shall  not  mislike  thereof;  and  even  so, 
my  Lord,  I  say  to  that  part  of  your  letters  wherein 
a  motion  is  made  to  me  ;  that  (as  in  all  my  services 
hitherto)  I  had,  nor  seek,  written  contentment  nor  will, 
than  shall  stand  her  Majesty's  pleasure  or  her  best 
service.  And  so,  wishing  to  your  Lordship  as  well  as 
to  myself,  I  take  my  leave. 

"At  Shefllield  this  9th  of  December,  1572. 

"  Your  Lordship's  ever-assured  friend, 

"  G.  Shrewsbury. 

"  I  have  presumed  to  write  to  the  Queen's  Majesty 
to  the  same  effect  as  to  your  Lordship." 


CHAPTER  VII 


FAMILY    LETTERS 


nr^HE  following  letters  carry  on  the  story  of  the 
Shrewsburys  in  domestic  and  official  detail  for  the 
next  year.  The  second  stepson  of  Bess  was  by  this 
time  not  only  a  married  man,  but  a  member  of  Parlia- 
ment and  a  courtier.  He  and  his  eldest  stepbrother 
and  brother-in-law,  Henry  Cavendish,  represented  their 
own  county.  His  brother,  Francis  Talbot,  the  Earl's  heir, 
who  was  also  at  Court,  had  been  entrusted  with  diplo- 
matic duties,  and  had  already  managed  to  get  into  mis- 
chief. Neither  he  nor  Gilbert,  who  survived  him,  ever 
took  such  an  important  social  or  official  position  as  that 
achieved  by  their  father  and  stepmother.  But  in  youth 
they  were  about  the  Court,  and  they  held  their  parents 
in  proper  awe.  Their  occasional  letters  imply  a  strong 
sense  of  family  duty  and  kinship  in  little  things  as  in 
great.  The  first  letter  touches  on  a  purely  domestic 
matter.  It  is  curious  that,  seeing  his  wife  was  his  step- 
mother's eldest  daughter,  Gilbert  should  not  have 
referred  to  the  Countess  for  advice  and  approval. 

"  My  Lord, — My  brother  told  me  of  the  letter  your 
Lordship  sent  him  for  the  putting  away  of  Morgan  and 
Marven ;  and  said  he  rejoiced  that  your  Lordship  would 
so  plainly  direct  and  command  him  what  to  do,  and  he 
trusteth   hereafter  to   please  your  Lordship   in   all  his 

99 


loo  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

doings ;  whereunto,  according  to  my  duty,  I  prayed  him 
to  have  care  above  all  manner  of  things,  and  advised  him 
to  keep  secret  your  Lordship's  directions. 

"  I  have  found  out  a  sober  maiden  to  wait  on  my 
wife,  if  it  shall  please  your  Lordship.  She  was  servant 
unto  Mrs.  Southwell,  now  Lord  Paget's  wife,  who  is 
an  evil  husband,  and  will  not  suffer  any  that  waited  on 
his  wife  before  he  married  her  to  continue  with  her.  As 
it  behoves  me,  1  have  been  very  inquisitive  of  the  woman, 
and  have  heard  very  well  of  her  behaviour  ;  and  truly  I 
do  repose  in  her  to  be  very  modest  and  well  given,  and 
such  a  one  as  I  trust  your  Lordship  shall  not  mislike  ; 
but  if  it  be  so  that  she  shall  not  be  thought  meet  for 
my  wife,  she  will  willingly  repair  hither  again.  Her 
name  is  Marget  Butler  ;  she  is  almost  twenty-seven 
years  old.  Mr.  Bateman*  hath  known  her  long,  and 
thinketh  very  well  of  her  :  she  is  not  very  beautiful,  but 
very  cleanly  in  doing  of  anything  chiefly  about  a  sick 
body,  to  dress  anything  fit  for  them.  I  humbly  pray 
your  Lordship  to  send  me  word  whether  I  shall  make 
shift  to  send  her  down  presently,  for  she  is  very  desirous 
not  to  spend  her  time  idly.  Thus,  most  humbly  desir- 
ing your  Lordship's  daily  blessing,  with  my  wonted  and 
continual  prayer  for  your  Lordship's  preservation  in  all 
honour  and  health,  long  to  continue,  I  end. 

"  At  the  Court  this  Monday,  the  25th  of  May,  1573. 
"  Your  Lordship's  most  humble  and  obedient  son, 

"Gilbert  Talbot." 

The  next  letter  is  largely  given  up  to  gossip,  and 
places  the  Earl  of  Leicester,  who  constantly  writes  wise 
and  appreciative  letters  to  the  Shrewsburys,  in  the  gay, 

^  A  servant  of  the  Shrewsburys. 


Photo  by  Richard  Kecne,  Ltd.,  Derby,  from  tlie  picture  at  Hardu'ick  Hail 
By  permission  of  his  Grace  the  Duke  of  Devonshire 

GILBERT   TALBOT,   SEVENTH   EARL  OF  SHREWSBURY 


Page  loo 


FAMILY   LETTERS  loi 

vivid  light  in  which  he  is  best  known  to  posterity.  It  is 
exhaustive,  and  touches  on  all  the  reports  the  writer  can 
gather  as  to  public  criticism  of  Shrewsbury  as  gaoler, 
besides  making  allusion  to  the  Earl's  financial  difficulties. 

"  My  most  humble  duty  remembered,  right  honour- 
able, my  singular  good  Lord  and  father  ;  because  of 
the  convenience  of  the  bearer  hereof,  I  have  thought 
good  to  advertise  your  Lordship  of  the  estate  of  some 
here  at  the  Court,  as  near  as  I  have  learned  by  my  daily 
experience.  My  Lord  Treasurer,  even  after  the  old 
manner,  dealeth  with  matters  of  the  State  only,  and 
beareth  himself  very  uprightly.  My  Lord  Leicester  is 
very  much  with  her  Majesty,  and  she  shows  the  same 
great,  good  affection  that  she  was  wont ;  of  late  he  has 
endeavoured  to  please  her  more  than  heretofore.  There 
are  two  sisters  now  in  the  Court  that  are  very  far  in  love 
with  him,  as  they  have  been  long — my  Lady  Sheffield 
and  Frances  Howard  ;^  they  (of  like  striving  who  shall 
love  him  better)  are  at  great  wars  together,  and  the 
Queen  thinketh  not  well  of  them  and  not  the  better  of 
him  ;  by  this  means  there  are  spies  over  him.  My 
Lord  of  Sussex  goes  with  the  tide,  and  helps  to  back 
others  ;  but  his  own  credit  is  sober,  considering  his 
estate  ;  he  is  very  diligent  in  his  office,  and  takes  great 
pains.  My  Lord  of  Oxford  is  lately  grown  into  great 
credit ;  for  the  Queen's  Majesty  delighteth  more  in  his 
personage  and  his  dancing  and  valiantness  than  any 
other.  I  think  Sussex  doth  back  him  all  that  he  can  ; 
if  it  were  not  for  his  fickle  head  he  would  pass  any  of 
them  shortly.  My  Lady  Burghley  unwisely  has  declared 
herself,    as    it    were,   jealous,    which    is    come    to    the 

1  Daughters  of  William,  Lord  Howard  of  Effingham. 


I02  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

Queen's  ear  ;  whereat  she  has  been  not  a  little  offended 
with  her,  but  now  she  is  reconciled  again.  At  all  these 
love  matters  my  Lord  Treasurer  winketh,  and  will  not 
meddle  anyway.  Hatton  is  sick  still ;  it  is  thought  he 
will  very  hardly  recover  his  disease,  for  it  is  doubted  it 
is  in  his  kidneys  ;  the  Queen  goeth  almost  every  day  to 
see  how  he  doth.  Now  are  there  devices  (chiefly  by 
Leicester,  as  I  suppose,  and  not  without  Burleigh's 
knowledge)  to  make  Mr.  Edward  Dyer  as  great  as  ever 
was  Hatton  ;  for  now,  in  this  time  of  Hatton's  sickness, 
the  time  is  convenient.  It  is  brought  thus  to  pass  : 
Dyer  lately  was  sick  of  a  consumption,  in  great  danger  ; 
and,  as  your  Lordship  knows,  he  has  been  in  displeasure 
these  two  years,  it  was  made  the  Queen  believe  that  his 
sickness  came  because  of  the  continuance  of  her  displea- 
sure towards  him,  so  that  unless  she  would  forgive  him 
he  was  like  not  to  recover,  and  hereupon  her  Majesty 
has  forgiven  him  and  sent  unto  him  a  very  comfortable 
message  ;  now  he  is  recovered  again,  and  this  is  the 
beginning  of  the  device.  These  things  I  learn  of  such 
young  fellows  as  myself.  Two  days  since  Dr.  Wilson  told 
me  he  heard  say  that  your  Lordship,  with  your  charge, 
was  removed  to  Sheffield  Lodge,  and  asked  me  whether 
it  was  so  or  not  :  I  answered  I  heard  so  also  ;  that  you 
were  gone  thither  of  force  till  the  castle  could  be 
cleansed.  And,  further,  he  wished  to  know  whether 
your  Lordship  did  so  by  the  consent  of  the  Council,  or 
not  :  I  said  I  knew  not  that,  but  I  was  certain  your 
Lordship  did  it  on  good  ground.  I  earnestly  desired 
him,  of  all  friendship,  to  tell  me  whether  he  had  heard 
anything  to  the  contrary  ;  which  he  sware  he  never 
did,  but  asked  because,  he  said,  once  that  Lady  should 
have  been  conveyed  from  that  house.     Then  1  told  him 


FAMILY   LETTERS  103 

what  great  heed  and  care  you  had  to  her  safe-keeping  ; 
especially  being  there  that  good  numbers  of  men,  con- 
tinually armed,  watched  her  day  and  night,  and  both 
under  her  windows,  over  her  chamber,  and  of  every 
side  her  ;  so  that,  unless  she  could  transform  herself  to 
a  flea  or  a  mouse,  it  was  impossible  that  she  should 
escape.  At  that  time  Mr.  Wilson  showed  me  some 
part  of  the  confession  of  one  (but  who  he  was,  or  when 
he  did  confess  it,  he  would  in  no  wise  tell  me),  that  that 
fellow  should  say  he  knew  the  Queen  of  Scots  hated 
your  Lordship  deadly  because  of  your  religion,  being  an 
earnest  Protestant ;  and  all  the  Talbots  else  in  England, 
being  all  Papists,  she  esteemeth  of  them  very  well  ;  and 
this  fellow  did  believe  verily  all  we  Talbots  did  love  her 
better  in  our  hearts  than  the  Queen's  Majesty  :  this 
Mr.  Wilson  said  he  showed  me  because  I  should  see 
what  knavery  there  is  in  some  men  to  accuse.  He 
charged  me  of  all  love  that  I  should  keep  this  secret, 
which  1  promised  ;  and,  notwithstanding,  considering 
he  would  not  tell  me  who  this  fellow  was,  I  willed  a 
friend  of  mine,  one  Mr.  Francis  Southwell,  who  is  very 
great  with  him,  to  know,  amongst  other  talk,  who  he 
had  last  in  examination ;  and  I  understood  that  this  was 
the  examination  of  one  at  the  last  session  of  Parliament, 
and  not  since,  but  I  cannot  learn  yet  what  he  was.  Mr. 
Walsingham  is  this  day  come  hither  to  the  Court  ;  it  is 
thought  he  shall  be  made  Secretary.  Sir  Thomas  Smith 
and  he  both  together  shall  exercise  that  office.  He  hath 
not  yet  told  any  news  ;  he  hath  had  no  time  yet  for 
being  returned  home  ;  as  soon  as  I  hear  any  your  Lord- 
ship shall  have  them  sent.  Roulsden  hath  written  to 
your  Lordship  as  he  saith,  by  this  bearer  ;  he  trusteth 
to  your  Lordship's  satisfaction.     I  have  been  very  im- 


I04  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

portunate  of  him  for  the  present  payment  of  his  debt  to 
your  Lordship.  He  cannot  anyways  make  shift  for 
money  unless  he  sell  land,  which  he  vows  to  do  rather 
than  to  purchase  your  Lordship's  displeasure.  1 
have  moved  my  Lord  Treasurer  two  sundry  times  as 
your  Lordship  commanded  me  for  the  mustering  within 
your  Lordship's  offices.  The  first  time  he  willed  me  to 
come  to  him  some  other  time,  and  he  would  give  me  an 
answer,  because  then  he  had  to  write  to  Berwick  in 
haste  ;  this  he  told  me  before  I  half  told  him  what  I 
meant.  The  second  time,  which  was  on  Saturday  last, 
my  Lord  Leicester  came  unto  him  as  I  was  talking  ;  but 
to-morrow,  God  willing,  I  will  not  fail  to  move  him 
thoroughly.  For  other  matters  I  leave  your  Lordship 
to  the  bearer  himself.  And  so,  most  humbly  desir- 
ing your  Lordship's  daily  blessing,  with  my  wonted 
prayer  for  the  continuance  of  your  Lordship's  honour, 
and  health  long  to  continue,  1  end,  this  nth  of  May, 

1573- 

"  Your  Lordship's  most  humble  and  obedient  son, 

"Gilbert  Talbot." 

This  letter  is  packed  with  suggestions  of  Court  in- 
trigue. Hatton — afterwards  Sir  Christopher  Hatton — 
it  will  be  remembered,  was  one  of  the  many  young 
courtiers  whose  polish,  culture,  and  elegant  dancing 
excited  Elizabeth's  romantic  interest.  He  rose  from 
the  post  of  Gentleman  of  the  Privy  Chamber  to  the 
captaincy  of  the  Guard,  and,  by  way  of  the  successive 
posts  of  Vice -Chamberlain  and  Privy  Councillor, 
reached  the  Chancellorship  and  received  a  Garter. 

Edward  Dyer,  Hatton's  rival,  matched  him  to  some 
extent    in     honours,    for    he    too    was    subsequently 


FAMILY   LETTERS  105 

knighted  and  invested  with  the  Garter.  As  for  the 
Dr.  Wilson  named,  he  afterwards  became  a  Secretary 
of  State,  while  the  Earl  of  Oxford,  who  is  shown  as 
trying  to  outdo  all  other  courtiers  in  favour,  was  a 
son-in-law  of  Lord  Burghley.  He  was  an  adherent 
of  the  fifth  Duke  of  Norfolk,  and  when  Burghley  re- 
fused to  intercede  for  the  Duke's  life,  the  Earl  vowed 
that  he  would  revenge  himself  on  his  father-in-law  by 
destroying  the  happiness  of  his  daughter.  This  he 
achieved  satisfactorily,  and  when  she  died  of  a  broken 
heart  he  finished  his  work  of  destruction  by  dissipating 
the  whole  of  his  fortune.  The  jealousy  of  "  my  Lady 
Burghley,"  named  in  the  above  letter,  evidently  refers 
to  the  torture  which  his  wife  suffered  while  he  was 
paying  addresses  to  the  Queen. 

In  the  midst  of  this  motley  Court  group  one  discerns 
the  figure  of  Burghley  himself,  a  pillar  of  discretion, 
while  unable  to  shield  his  own  daughter  from  distress 
and  scandal. 

We  see  that  the  Earl  of  Leicester  was  a  person  to  be 
cultivated  so  long  as  his  love  affairs  did  not  incur  the 
Queen's  anger,  and  so  long,  in  fact,  as  the  love-making 
was  not  on  his  side.  It  must  have  been  with  a  chuckle 
of  satisfaction  that  the  Earl  received  a  letter  from  the 
favourite  about  this  time,  in  which  he  specially  com- 
mends the  behaviour  of  the  young  Talbots  and  records 
the  Queen's  high  approval  of  them.  All  this  was  very 
soothing  to  their  parents.  The  political  situation  was 
less  acute.  Many  traitors  were  dead,  and  the  banner  of 
Mary  of  Scotland  lay  in  the  dust.  Her  chief  strong- 
hold had  fallen.  France  was  in  very  bad  odour,  though 
the  memory  of  the  horror  of  the  Bartholomew  Massacre 
was  beginning  to  fade  from  English  minds.     Spain  had 


io6  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

enough  to  do  with  her  affairs  in  the  Netherlands. 
Elizabeth  could  afford  to  dance,  practise  on  the  vir- 
ginals, play  off  one  of  her  Court  lovers  against  another, 
and  invent  nicknames  for  them.  Domestic  happiness 
and  a  merrier  aspect  of  things  came  also  nearer  to  the 
Talbots.  My  Lady  absented  herself  for  a  while,  and 
the  Earl  writes  to  her  as  of  old  like  a  lover,  and  tells 
her  of  his  dangers  and  longings  : — 

"  My  dear  none, — Of  all  joys  I  have  under  God 
the  greatest  is  yourself:  to  think  that  I  possess  so 
faithful,  and  one  that  I  know  loves  me  so  dearly,  is 
all  and  the  greatest  comfort  that  this  earth  can  give. 
Therefore  God  give  me  grace  to  be  thankful  to  Him  for 
His  goodness  showed  unto  me,  a  vile  sinner. 

"  And  where  you  advise  in  your  letter  you  willed  me 
to  .  .  .^  which  I  did  that  I  should  not  be  .  .  .^  to  this 
lady  nothing  of  the  matter  :  my  stomach  was  so  full,  I 
asked  her  in  quick  manner,  where  she  writ  any  letters 
to  any  her  friends  that  I  would  stand  in  her  title.  She 
affirms  in  her  honour  she  hath  not.  But  howsoever  it 
is  she  hath  written  therein,  I  may  safely  answer  I  make 
small  account  thereof. 

"  I  thank  you,  my  sweetheart,  that  you  are  so  will- 
ing to  come  when  I  will.  Therefore,  dear  heart,  send 
me  word  how  I  might  send  for  you  ;  and  till  I  have 
your  company  I  shall  think  long,  my  only  joy  :  and 
therefore  appoint  a  day,  and  in  the  meantime  I  shall 
content  me  with  your  will,  and  long  daily  for  your 
coming.  1  your  letters  study  very  well  ;  and  I  like 
them  so  well  they  could  not  be  amended  :  and  I  have 
sent  them  up  to  Gilbert.     I  have  written  to  him  how 

1   Blank  in  the  MS. 


FAMILY   LETTERS  107 

happy  he  is  to  have  such  a  mother  as  you  are.     Fare- 
well, only  joy.     This  Tuesday  evening, 

"  Your  faithful  one, 
"To  my  wife." ^  "G.  Shrewsbury. 

The  next  letter,  from  one  of  her  own  boys,  is  one 
which  Bess  evidently  sent  on  to  her  "juwell"  of  a 
husband  : — 

Henry  Cavendish  to  the  Countess  of  Shrewsbury. 

"  May  it  please  your  honour,  I  thought  it  good  to 
let  your  La.  understand  of  a  misfortune  that  happened 
in  my  house.  On  Thursday  night  last  at  supper  two 
of  my  men  fell  out  about  some  trifling  words,  and  to 
all  their  fellows'  judgment  that  heard  their  jangling 
we  made  good  friends  again,  and  went  and  lay  together 
that  night,  for  they  had  been  bedfellows  of  long  before, 
and  loved  one  another  very  well,  as  everybody  took 
it  in  the  house.  On  Friday  morning,  very  early,  by 
break  of  day,  they  went  forth,  by  name  Swenerto  and 
Langeford,  with  two  swords  apiece,  as  the  sequel  after 
showed  ;  and  in  the  fields  fought  together,  and  in  fight 
Swenerto  slew  Langeford,  to  my  great  grief  both  for 
the  sudden  death  of  the  one  and  for  the  utter 
destruction  of  the  other,  whom  I  loved  very  well. 
Good  Madam,  let  it  not  trouble  you  anything ;  we 
are  mortal,  and  born  to  many  and  strange  adventures  ; 
and  therefore  must  temper  our  minds  to  bear  such 
burdens  as  shall  be  by  God  laid  on  our  shoulders. 
My  greatest  grief,  and  so  I  judge  it  will  be  some 
trouble  to  your  La.  that  it  should  happen  in  my  house. 
Alas  !  mada,  what  could  I  do  with  it  :  altogether  right 

^  Hunter's  Hallamshlre. 


io8  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

sorrowful  for  it,  and  it  hath  troubled  and  vexed  me, 

more  than  in  reason  it  should  have  done  a  wise  man. 

I  would  to  God   I  could  forget  that  there  never  had 

been  any   such   matter.     Upon   the  fight  done   I   sent 

for  Mr.  Adderley,  and  used  his  counsel  in  all  things. 

Swenerto   fled  presently  and  is   pursued,  but   not  yet 

heard    of.        Thus    humbly    craving    your    La.    daily 

blessing   I   end,   more   than    sad   to   trouble   your   La. 

thus    long    with    this    sorrowful    matter.       Tut  :    this 

present  Saturday. 

"  Your  La.  most  bounden,  humble,  and  obedient  son, 

,, ^r-  1  J  "Henry  Cavendish. 

"To  my  lady. 

"  Return  this." 

"My  *juwell,'  this  Saturday  at  night  I  received  this 
letter,  much  to  my  grief  for  the  mishap.  Yet  was 
ever  like  that  Swenerto  should  commit  some  great 
fault  ;  he  was  a  vain,  lewd  fellow.     Farewell,  my  dear 

"  Your  faithful  wife, 

"  E.  Shrewsbury." 

The  Earl  writes  again,  impatient  for  his  wife's 
return  : — 

"  My  dear  none, — I  see  how  careful  you  are  of  my 
health,  which  if  I  were  sick  would  relieve  me  again. 
I  received  a  letter  from  Gilbert  sent  by  Nykle  Clark. 
You  may  see  the  time  approaching  near  that  a  new 
alarm  will  be  given  me.  When  you  have  read  his 
letter  I  pray  you  to  write  to  me  again,  for  I  mind  of 
Monday  to  write  by  Antony  Barlow  ;  he  will  be  glad  of 
the  pursuivantship  if  he  can  get  it :  he  shall  have  my 
good  will  therein.      If  you  will  write  up  ...   he  may 


FAMILY   LETTERS  109 

safely  deliver  it,  therefore  I  pray  you  fail  not,  but  send 
me  your  advice  concerning  this  matter.  Farewell,  my 
only  joy.  This  Saturday  1  pray  you  keep  promise  ; 
you  said  you  would  be  with  me  within  a  fortnight 
at  the  furthest ;  therefore  let  me  hear  from  you  when 
I  shall  send  for  your  horses,  my  sweetheart. 

"  Your  faithful  husband  and  assured, 

"  G.  Shrewsbury." 

At  the  beginning  of  the  year  following,  1574,  the 
Earl  indites  a  very  touching  and  dignified  little  New 
Year  letter  to  the  son  in  whom  he  always  seems  to  take 
the  most  interest — Gilbert  : — 

"  I  have  received  your  letter  of  New  Year's  Eve,  and 
this  New  Year's  day  I  begin  to  use  my  pen  first  to  your- 
self wishing  you  to  use  yourself  this  New  Year  and  many 
years  after  to  God's  glory  and  fear  of  Kim,  and  to  live 
in  that  credit  your  ancestors  have  hitherto  done,  and  so 
doing,  as  I  hope  you  will,  be  faithful,  loyal,  and  service- 
able to  the  Queen's  Majesty,  my  Sovereign,  who  to  me, 
under  God,  is  King  of  Kings  and  Lord  of  Lords.  Your 
New  Year's  gift  shall  be  I  will  supply  all  your  needful 
wants  ;  and  so  long  as  I  see  that  carefulness,  duty,  and 
love  you  bear  me  which  hitherto  I  see  in  you,  my  purse 
and  all  that  I  have  shall  be  as  free  to  you  as  to  myself.^ 
Time  is  so  short  and  I  have  so  many  come  to  me  with 
New  Year's  gifts  I  can  write  no  more,  but  thank  you  for 
your  perfumed  doublet  you  sent  me  :  and  so  praying 
God  to  bless  you. 

"Sheffield  Castle  this  New  Year's  Day  1574. 

"  Your  loving  father, 

"G.  Shrewsbury." 

^  In  the  light  of  after  events  this  is  a  somewhat  rash  offer ! 


no  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

The  whole  tone  of  the  letter  is  one  of  domestic 
security,  and  one  has  a  vivid  glimpse  of  the  New  Year 
celebrations  and  the  flow  of  gifts.  These  etrennes  were 
important  affairs.  A  good  courtier  always  paid  this  dole 
to  his  queen  under  the  guise  of  a  handsome  gift,  while 
the  nobles  and  country  gentry  in  their  turn  were  the 
recipients  from  their  tenants  and  friends  of  hetero- 
geneous articles  varying  from  capons,  wine,  and  food- 
stuffs to  gloves,  clothes,  or  furniture. 

No  one  in  that  great  and  rich  family  group,  so  full 
of  promise,  had  any  notion  of  the  events  which  would 
call  down  upon  the  Countess  the  wrath  of  the  Queen, 
or  the  fresh  accusations  which  would  be  hurled  against 
the  Earl. 

Life  just  now  was  as  easy  as  Shrewsbury  could 
ever  hope  to  find  it.  He  had  managed  to  satisfy  his 
prisoner  and  give  her  plenty  of  change.  She  was  in  the 
autumn  of  1573  transferred  to  Chats  worth,  en  route  for 
Buxton.  Ultimately,  by  dint  of  scouring  the  place  of 
strangers  and  preventing  access  to  the  springs  of  any 
save  specified  persons — a  thing  the  more  easy  of  accom- 
plishment since  the  waters  were  the  property  of  Shrews- 
bury's family — it  was  made  possible  to  give  her  five 
weeks  here.  After  this  came  a  stay  at  Chatsworth  and 
then  the  return  to  Sheffield. 

Freedom  from  outside  attacks  did  not  last  very  long. 
Before  the  spring  had  fairly  set  in  Elizabeth  and  Burghley 
were  once  more  on  the  warpath  against  the  Shrews- 
burys.  Never  was  George  Talbot  sure  of  his  Queen's 
trust.  It  must  be  remembered  here  that  at  the  close  of 
1572  she  had  deliberately  written  thus  by  Burghley: 
"  The  Queen's  Majesty  has  in  very  good  part  accepted 
your  last  letter  to  herself,  and  has  willed  me  to  ascer- 


FAMILY   LETTERS  in 

tain  your  Lordship  that  she  doth  no  wise  alter  her 
former  good  opinion  of  your  approved  fidelity  and  of 
the  care  you  have  of  such  service  as  is  committed  to 
you,  the  same  being  such  as  none  can  in  her  land  com- 
pare with  the  trust  committed  to  your  Lordship,  and  yet 
she  would  have  your  Lordship,  as  she  says,  not  to  mis- 
like  that  when  she  hath  occasion  to  doubt  or  fear  foreign 
practices  reaching  hither  into  her  realm,  even  to  the 
charge  which  your  Lordship  hath,  she  do  warn  you 
thereof;  and,  in  so  doing,  not  to  imagine  that  she 
findeth  such  informations  to  proceed  from  any  mistrust 
that  she  hath  of  your  Lordship,  no  more  than  she  would 
have  if  you  were  her  son  or  brother.  This  she  wills 
me  to  write  effectually  to  your  Lordship  .  .  .  with  my 
most  hearty  commendations  to  your  Lordship  and 
my  good  Lady." 

In  spite  of  this  the  least  thing  afforded  Elizabeth  an 
excuse  for  a  nagging  letter  to  Sheffield  Castle.  On  this 
occasion  the  matter  was  innocent  enough.  Gilbert's 
young  wife  expected  her  first  child,  and  it  was  not  sur- 
prising that  my  Lord  and  Lady  should  prefer  that  the 
event  should  take  place  under  their  roof.  Yet  the 
Queen  thought  it  necessary  to  worry  them  with  mistrust, 
forcibly  expressed.  Shrewsbury  replies  to  Burghley  : 
"The  mislike  her  Majesty  ...  of  my  son  Gilbert's 
wife  brought  to  bed  in  my  house,  as  cause  of  women 
and  strangers  repair  hither,  makes  me  heartily  sorry  ; 
nevertheless,  the  midwife  excepted,  none  such  have,  or 
do  at  any  time,  come  within  her  sight ;  and  at  the  first, 
to  avoid  such  resort,  I  myself  with  two  of  my  children 
christened  the  child.  What  intelligence  passeth  for  this 
Queen  to  and  from  my  house  I  do  not  know  ;  but  trust 
her  Majesty  shall  find  my  service  while  I  live  both  true 


112  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

and  faithful.  Yet  be  you  assured,  my  Lord,  this  lady 
will  not  stay  to  put  in  practice,  or  make  enquiry  by  all 
means  she  can  devise,  and  ask  me  no  leave,  so  long  as 
such  access  of  her  people  is  permitted  unto  her.  .  .  . 
My  Lord,  where  there  hath  been  often  bruits  of  this 
Lady's  escape  from  me,  the  26th  of  February  last  there 
came  an  earthquake,  which  so  sunk  chiefly  her  chamber 
as  I  doubted  more  her  falling  than  her  going,  she  was  so 
afraid.  But  God  be  thanked  she  is  forthcoming,  and 
grant  it  may  be  a  forewarning  unto  her.  It  hath  been 
at  the  same  time  in  sundry  places.  No  hurt  was  done 
and  the  same  continued  a  very  small  time.  God  grant 
us  all  grace  to  fear  Him." 

That  the  very  Derbyshire  ground  which  bore  him 
should  fail  his  feet  while  his  Queen's  faith  in  him  fell 
away  seems  adding  insult  to  injury.  For  some  time 
past  he  appears  to  have  been  torn  between  the  longing 
to  rid  himself  of  a  now  intolerable  responsibility  and  the 
fear  of  misconstruction  to  which  his  retirement  from  his 
post  would  expose  him.  "  The  truth  is,  my  good  Lord," 
as  he  is  driven  at  last  to  say  to  Burghley,  "  if  it  so 
stand  with  the  Queen  Majesty's  pleasure  I  could  be 
right  well  contented  to  be  discharged  .  .  .  and  think 
myself  therewith  most  happy,  if  I  could  see  how  the 
same  might  be  without  any  blemish  to  my  honour  and 
estimation."  He  begs  that  Burghley  "  will  have  respect 
that  such  consideration  may  be  had  of  my  service  as 
shall  make  it  manifest  to  the  world  how  well  her 
Majesty  accepteth  the  same.  My  Lord  Scroop,  and 
others,  were  not  unconsidered  of  for  their  short  time  of 
service."  And  so  in  this  condition  of  mind  he  waits  for 
Burghley's  advice.  He  would  have  done  better  to  risk 
the  Queen's  displeasure  and  to  lay  down  his  gaoler's 


FAMILY   LETTERS  113 

warrant  on  the  plea  of  illness,  even  if  in  those  days 
medical  certificates  were  not  so  easy  to  procure  and 
might  not  have  been  so  potent.  As  for  disfavour  at 
Court,  he  could,  as  a  strong  and  powerful  private  gentle- 
man, take  up  his  stand  and  keep  up  his  vast  property, 
though  Elizabeth  might  wreak  her  annoyance  on  the 
young  Cavendishes  and  Talbots.  Had  he  summed  up 
the  courage  to  decide  the  matter  after  his  own  heart  he 
would  have  lost  nothing  in  the  world's  esteem,  been  far 
better  off  in  pocket,  and  possibly  the  barque  of  the 
Shrewsburys  would  have  escaped  the  shoals  and  rocks  of 
domestic  bickerings,  which  in  later  middle-life  led  to 
such  woeful  wreckage  of  the  vessel  and  the  magnificent 
family  crew. 

George  Talbot  did  not  foresee  all  this.  He  was  not 
an  imaginative  man.  He  was  a  typical  Government 
official,  precise,  sententious,  cautious,  faithful,  anxious, 
hypersensitive.  One  imagines  that  his  countess — who 
was  not  in  the  least  au  fond  the  typical  discreet  wife  of  a 
high  oflficial — spent  a  good  deal  of  time  goading  him  to 
revolt.  He  has  admitted  in  a  previous  letter  that  she 
was  not  at  all  anxious  for  him  to  continue  with  his 
present  duties.  Of  course,  it  was  the  business  of 
Burghley  to  keep  him  at  them.  Shrewsbury  was  the 
most  useful  of  all  English  nobles  in  this  respect.  All 
the  conditions  about  him  suited  the  Queen's  purposes  in 
every  way.  The  way  in  which  she  and  Burghley  put 
him  off  with  fair  promises  and  bamboozled  him  with 
vague  promises  of  reward  makes  one  gasp.  As  to 
current  outlay — the  £^2  per  week  allowed  him  for  this 
by  the  Council  was  far  too  little — one  of  the  most 
ingenious  suggestions  Elizabeth  ever  made  was  that 
Mary  should  "  defray  her  own  charges  with  her  dowry 


114  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

of  France."  Shrewsbury  adds  :  "  She  seemed  not  to 
dislike  thereof  at  all,  but  rather  desirous  ...  so  she 
asked  me  in  what  sort  and  with  what  manner  of  liberty 
she  should  be  permitted  to  same."  He  urges  that  these 
details  should  be  settled  at  once.  "  Assure  yourself  if 
the  liberty  and  manner  thereof  content  her  as  well  as  the 
motion,  she  will  easily  assent  to  it ;  and  so  I  wish  it,  as 
may  be  without  peril  otherwise  ;  and  for  the  charges  in 
safe-keeping  her,  1  have  found  them  greater  many  ways 
than  some  have  accounted  for,  and  than  I  have  made 
show  of,  or  grieved  at  ;  for  in  service  of  her  Majesty  I 
can  think  my  whole  patrimony  well  bestowed." 

How  the  wary  official,  loyal  and  somewhat  crushed, 
speaks  in  that  last  sentence  !  How  irritating  to  his  Bess 
with  her  superabundant  business  instinct  and  her  ambi- 
tions for  her  family  1  He  was  ever  on  the  watch,  his 
conscience  agog.  She  was  continually  "  on  the  make," 
seeking  the  quickest  road  to  family  aggrandisement 
which  was  compatible  with  decency. 

The  following  letter  belongs  to  this  period,  and  shows 
Gilbert  Talbot  back  in  London.  He  had  been  previously 
there  in  communication  with  Court  officials  apropos 
of  the  accusations  brought  originally  against  his  father 
and  subsequently  against  himself  by  an  ex-chaplain  of 
the  Earl,  named  Corker,  in  combination  with  another 
priest  called  Haworth.  The  letter  roused  the  whole 
family.  The  Earl  literally  lashes  out.  It  remains  as 
the  chief  evidence  of  the  first  published  imputations 
against  the  Earl's  honour.  It  evidently  embodies  the 
attitude  of  wife  as  well  as  husband.  This  is  a  very 
important  point  because  of  the  dissension  which  arose 
later  on  this  very  question. 


FAMILY   LETTERS  115 

"  To  the  right  honourable  my  very  good  Lord, 
my  Lord  Burghley,  Lord  Treasurer  of  England. 

"Your  Lordship's  friendly  letters  I  accept  in  as 
friendly  ways  as  I  know  to  be  meant  to  me.  For 
Corker's  proceedings  against  my  son  Gilbert,  I  partly 
understand  of  his  false  accusation  ;  which,  in  my  con- 
science, is  utterly  untrue  and  thereupon  I  dare  gage  my 
life.  The  reprobate's  beginning  was  against  me  and 
now  turned  to  Gilbert.  His  wicked  speeches  of  me 
cannot  be  hid  ;  I  have  them  of  his  own  hand,  cast 
abroad  in  London,  and  bruited  throughout  this  realm, 
and  known  to  her  Majesty's  Council.  Her  Majesty 
hath  not  heard  of  him  ill  of  me,  so  it  pleaseth  her 
Majesty  to  signify  unto  me  by  her  own  gracious  letters, 
which  I  must  believe,  notwithstanding  his  dealing  against 
me  is  otherwise  so  notoriously  known  that  if  he  escape 
sharp  and  open  punishment  dishonour  will  redound  to 
me.  This  practice  hath  a  further  meaning  than  the 
varlets  know  of.  .  .  .  For  mine  own  part  I  have 
never  thought  to  allow  any  title,  nor  will,  otherwise 
than  as  shall  please  her  Majesty  to  appoint.  .  .  .  How 
can  it  be  supposed  that  I  should  be  disposed  to  favour 
this  Queen  for  her  claim  to  succeed  the  Queen's 
Majesty  ?  My  dealing  towards  her  hath  shown  the 
contrary.  I  know  her  to  be  a  Stranger,  a  Papist,  and 
my  enemy  ;  what  hope  can  I  have  of  good  of  her, 
either  for  me  or  my  country  }  I  see  I  am  by  my  own 
friends  brought  in  jealousy,  wherefore  I  wish  with  all 
my  heart  that  I  were  honourably  read,  without  note  or 
blemish,  to  the  world  of  any  want  in  me." 

Though    the    Earl's   enemy   was    satisfactorily   con- 


ii6  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

demned  to  the  pillory  and  the  Fleet,  the  scandal 
proved  many-headed,  and  again  the  poor  official  (accused, 
among  other  things,  of  being  as  much  of  a  credulous 
fool  as  a  knave  in  regard  to  Mary  of  Scotland)  thunders 
protest. 

"  Wherefore  as  touching  that  lewd  fellow,  who  hath 
not  only  sought  by  unlawful  libels  extant,  so  much  as 
in  him  lay,  to  deface  my  dutiful  heart  and  loyalty,  but 
also  the  rooting  up  of  my  house,  utter  overthrow  and 
destruction  of  my  lineal  posterity,  I  neither  hold  him 
a  subject  nor  yet  account  him  worthy  the  name  of  a 
man,  which  with  a  watery  submission  can  appease  so 
rigorous  a  storm  ;^  no,  if  loss  of  my  life,  which  he  hath 
pretended  would  have  fully  contented  him,  I  could 
better  have  been  satisfied  than  with  these,  his  unspeak- 
able vilenesses.  ...  I  might  be  thought  hard-hearted 
if,  for  Christianity's  sake,  I  should  not  freely  forgive 
as  cause  shall  require,  and  desire  God  to  make  him  a 
better  member,  being  so  perilous  a  caterpillar  in  the 
Commonwealth.  For  I  have  not  the  man  anywise  in 
contempt,  it  is  his  iniquity  and  Judas  dealing  that  I 
only  hate." 

In  other  words,  "  Reptile !  But  I  forgive  thee." 
It  is  almost  a  parallel  to  the  anecdote  of  a  certain  little 
girl  with  an  over-stern  nurse  of  gloomy  religious  ten- 
dencies, to  whom  the  child,  waking  alone  in  the  dark, 
called,  "  Nurse,  nurse,  come,  come  1  I  dreamed  that 
the  devil  was  here  tempting  me  to  call  you  a  duffer — 
but  I  resisted  the  temptation  !  " 

^  Corker  had  apparently  eaten  his  words  in  a  whining  counter  state- 
ment. 


FAMILY   LETTERS  117 

The  Corker  affair,  of  course,  provided  fresh  food 
for  the  imaginings  and  reports  of  Mary's  adversaries. 
People  thought  that  it  would  necessarily  mean  the 
removal  of  Mary  into  fresh  custody.  Mary  herself 
dreaded  this.  She  did  not  love  Shrewsbury,  but  she 
believed  her  life  to  be  safe  with  him,  though  she  may 
not  have  entirely  trusted  his  wife.  She  heard  that 
poison  was  to  be  used  against  her,  and  that  there  was 
a  suggestion  at  Court  "  to  make  overtures  to  the 
Countess  of  Shrewsbury."  She  was  assured  that  if 
anyone  poisoned  her  without  Elizabeth's  knowledge, 
the  latter  "  would  be  very  much  obliged  to  them  for 
relieving  her  of  so  great  a  trouble." 

There  is  nothing  on  the  Countess's  side  to  cor- 
roborate this  wild  statement.  This  horrible  fear,  how- 
ever, was  so  implanted  in  Mary's  mind  that  she  sent 
to  France  for  "  some  genuine  terra  sigillata,  as  anti- 
dote." But  she  did  not  apply  to  her  sinister  mother- 
in-law  Catherine  De  Medici.  "Ask  M.  the  Cardinal 
my  uncle,"  she  writes,  "  or  if  he  has  none,  rather  than 
have  recourse  to  the  Queen  my  mother-in-law,  or  to 
the  King,  send  a  bit  of  fine  unicorn's  horn,  as  I  am  in 
great  want  of  it." 

The  year  1574  travelled  onward  without  realisation 
of  her  fears.  The  "  caterpillar,"  Corker,  had  not  pre- 
vailed in  the  overthrow  of  the  Earl's  house  or  of  his 
"  lineal  posterity,"  and  Gilbert  Talbot  in  this  little  note 
writes  affectionately  enough  to  his  stepmother  : — ^ 

"  My  most  humble  duty  remembered  unto  your 
good  Ladyship,  to  fulfil  your  La.  commandment,  and 
in  discharge  of  my  duty  by  writing,  rather  than  for  any 

^  Hunter's  Hallamshire, 


ii8  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

matter   of  importance    that    1    can    learn,    I    herewith 

trouble  your  La.     Her  Majesty  stirreth  little  abroad, 

and  since  the  stay  of  the  navy  to  sea  here  hath  been  all 

things  very  quiet.  ...  I  have  written  to  my  Lord  of  the 

bruit  which  is  here  of  his   being  sick  again,  which   I 

nothing  doubt  but  it  is  utterly  untrue :  howbeit,  because 

I  never  heard  from  my  L.  nor  your  La.  since  I  came 

up,  I  cannot  choose  but  be  somewhat  troubled,  and  yet 

I  consider  the  like  hath  been  often  reported  most  falsely 

and    without   cause,   as   I   beseech   God    this   be.     My 

Lady  Cobbam   asketh   daily  how   your   La.   doth,  and 

yesterday  prayed  me,  the  next  time  1  wrote,  to  do  her 

very  hearty  commendation  unto  your  La.,  saying  openly 

she  remaineth  unto  your  La.  as  she  was  wont,  as  unto 

her  dearest  friend.     My  La.  Lenox  hath  not  been  at 

the  Court  since  I  came.     On  Wednesday  next  I  trust 

(God    willing)    to    go    hence    towards    Goodrich  ;    and 

shortly  after  to  be  at  Sheffield.     And  so  most  humbly 

craving  your  La.  blessing  with  my  wonted  prayer,  for 

your  honour  and  most  perfect  health  long  to  continue. 

From  the  Court  at  Greenwich  this  27th  June,  1573. 

"  Your  La.  most  humble  and  obedient  son, 

,,rr  T    J  "Gilbert  Talbot. 

"  lo  my  Lady. 

"  I  received  a  letter  from  my  Lord  since  this  letter 
was  sealed,  and  then  I  had  no  time  by  this  messenger 
to  write  again  unto  your  La.  which  came  in  a  comfort- 
able season  unto  me." 


CHAPTER   VIII 

A    CERTAIN    JOURNEY 

TT  was  now  the  autumn  of  the  year  1574.  The 
Shrewsburys  had  for  the  time  being  come  tri- 
umphantly out  of  official  complications,  and  despite 
their  grave  responsibilities  lived  as  comfortably  as 
might  be,  though  they  were  often  separated,  because 
the  wife,  at  any  rate,  had  other  duties  besides  that  of 
gaolership.  What  social  life  was  permitted  to  them  by 
the  restraint  entailed  by  this  charge  could  obviously  be 
enjoyed  only  by  the  Countess,  and  even  she  must  have 
found  it  difficult  to  meet  her  cronies,  get  her  children 
married  and  provided  for,  and  keep  a  firm  hand  on 
domestic  expenditure  at  the  various  houses  she  owned. 
The  guarding  of  Mary  of  Scotland  certainly  had  its 
interesting,  romantic  side,  and  this  to  some  extent  was 
a  set-off  against  the  greyer  side  of  the  business  and  its 
financial  disadvantages.  Just  now  the  chances  of  Mary 
were  at  their  lowest.  Bothwell  was  dying  in  exile,^  the 
Duke  of  Norfolk  had  shed  his  blood  vainly  for  her, 
Charles  Darnley,  "The  Young  Fool,"  as  Mr.  Lang 
most  justly  calls  him,  though  dead,  with  all  his  vanity, 
treachery,  and  vice,  could  still  harm  her  cause,  more 
latterly  perhaps  through  the  popular  stigma  which  at- 
tached to  her  than  by  the  hatred  of  his  relatives,  the 

^  His  death  took  place  in  1575,  but  Mary  did  not  hear  of  it  till  a  year 
later. 

119 


I20  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

family  of  Lennox.  His  family,  sorely  chastened  by 
Elizabeth  for  his  marriage  with  Mary,  was,  since  his 
death,  held  in  less  odium  at  the  English  Court,  though 
it  did  not  suit  the  Queen's  gracious  meanness  to  raise 
it  out  of  poverty.  Elizabeth  and  Darnley's  mother, 
poor  soul — Countess  of  Lennox,  nie  the  Lady  Mar- 
garet Douglas — had  I>uried  the  hatchet  after  the  boy's 
death.  For  the  benefit  of  those  who  forget  her  story — 
or  ignore  it — a  word  as  to  this  lady  : — 

The  daughter  of  Queen  Margaret  of  Scotland  (a 
Tudor,  and  sister  of  Henry  VIII)  and  of  the  Earl  of 
Angus,  a  mere  boy,  she  was  born  in  a  wild  moment  of 
flight  over  the  border  into  England.  The  very  castle 
into  which  her  mother  crept  after  the  long  journey  on 
horseback  was  immediately  besieged.  Thereafter  the 
child  Margaret  became  a  bone  of  contention  between 
her  divorced  parents — as  history  tells.  After  three 
years  of  babyhood  in  the  shelter  of  her  royal  uncle's 
English  Court  she  spent  her  youth  in  France  and  Scot- 
land, often  latterly  a  wanderer  from  castle  to  castle, 
abhorred  by  her  mother  the  Scots  Queen  because  of 
her  devotion  to  her  outlawed  father.  For  years  she 
had  neither  house  nor  pin-money,  but  was  dependent 
always  upon  such  hospitality  and  shelter  as  her  father's 
friends  would  yield  her  in  their  Northern  fortresses. 
Though  her  mother  never  forgave  her  for  her  defection, 
the  fortunes  of  the  girl — beautiful  and  of  imposing 
personality — mended  and  brought  her  at  last  into  the 
sunshine  of  Tudor  favours.  Henry  VIII  had  com- 
passion on  his  niece  and  made  her  playmate  of  Princess 
Mary,  at  which  time  she  so  won  his  affections  that  he 
settled  an  annuity  upon  her  and  her  father.  Subse- 
quently she  was   first  lady-in-waiting  to  Anne  Boleyn, 


From  a  contemporary  /licture 

LADY  MARGARET  DOUGLAS,  CUUNTKSS  OF  LENNOX 

MOTHER   OF    LORD   DARNLEY 


Page    I20 


A   CERTAIN   JOURNEY  121 

and  was  installed  as  one  of  the  household  of  the  baby 
Princess  Elizabeth.  While  Katherine  of  Aragon  was 
being  divorced  and  the  star  of  Anne  Boleyn  waxed  and 
waned  she  witnessed  strange  moments,  and  watched  the 
violent  changes  by  which  her  uncle  declared  now  this 
one  and  now  that  one  of  his  daughters  illegitimate. 
Her  own  fortunes,  even  as  a  princess  of  the  blood 
royal,  were — in  spite  of  her  uncle's  genial  expressions 
— nothing  too  secure,  and  marriage  and  a  dowry  were 
still  dreams  of  the  future.  Possibly  the  King's  erotic 
irregularities  allowed  him  no  time  for  the  love  affairs 
of  others,  but  at  any  rate  he  manifestly  did  not,  like 
some  of  his  successors,  intend  to  doom  his  lady  wards 
to  perpetual  virginity.  When  Lady  Margaret  showed 
favour  to  Lord  Thomas  Howard,  kinsman  of  the 
Queen  (Boleyn),  Henry  seemed  to  have  winked  at  the 
courtship.  So  soon,  however,  as  he  killed  his  second 
consort  and  degraded  her  baby  girl  to  the  ranks  of 
the  illegitimate,  matters  assumed  a  very  different  colour. 
For  the  Lady  Margaret  Douglas  was  now  the  nearest 
heir  to  the  throne.  He  married  immediately,  but  no 
heir  was  speedily  born.  Meanwhile  the  Lady  Mar- 
garet's love  affair  grew  and  culminated  in  a  formal  if 
secret  contract — that  is  to  say  a  solemn  betrothal,  in 
every  respect  binding.  Henry  regarded  this  as  a 
double  offence.  His  blood  niece,  his  heir  apparent, 
had  contracted  herself  without  his  permission  ;  more- 
over she  had  pledged  herself  to  a  near  relative  of  the 
abhorred  Boleyn.  He  behaved  in  his  proper,  kingly, 
melodramatic  way,  sent  man  and  maid  to  the  Tower, 
speedily  convicted  them  of  high  treason,  and  sentence 
of  death  followed.  The  execution  of  this,  as  usual, 
was  delayed.     The   State   document  condemning  both 


122  BESS   OF  HARDWICK 

is,  as  all  the  world  knows,  one  of  the  most  dis- 
gracefully illegal  concoctions  ever  produced  by  the 
blundering  rage  of  a  ruler  and  the  hypocrisy  of  his 
ministers.  In  addition  it  furnished  the  precedent  for 
the  gross  interference  of  that  ruler's  daughter,  Eliza- 
beth, in  like  cases.  In  addition  to  proving  the  Lady 
Margaret  guilty  of  treason,  it  professed  to  prove  her 
illegitimacy  also,  and  so  cleared  the  way  for  Henry's 
future  whims.  The  unhappy  Lord  Thomas,  after  a 
year  or  two,  succumbed  to  close  confinement  and 
sorrow  and  died  in  the  Tower.  His  lady  was  removed 
to  Sion  House  Court,  near  London,  one  of  the  few 
religious  houses  upon  which  her  uncle  found  it  con- 
venient to  smile  because  it  could  play  a  most  useful 
part  in  his  affairs  as  a  polite  place  of  detention  for 
ladies  of  quality  who  drooped  under  his  displeasure. 
The  birth  of  his  prince— Edward  VI — made  him  relent 
towards  his  niece,  and  she  came  about  the  Court  once 
more,  though  her  old  penchant  for  the  house  of 
Howard,  of  which  a  second  member — nephew  of  her 
betrothed — now  wooed  her,  thrust  her  into  shadow 
again.  This  was  probably  a  harder  blow  than  the 
first,  though  she  was  not  this  time  shivering  under 
the  fear  of  the  axe.  For  she  had  been  fully  restored 
to  her  old  place  ;  she  had  once  more  taken  part  in 
that  melodramatic  domestic  merry-go-round  of  Henry's 
consorts.  She  was  first  lady  to  the  new  royal  Anne 
of  Cleves,  she  had  apartments  assigned  to  her  at 
Hampton  Court,  and  she  was  "  first  lady "  again  to 
Anne's  successor,  Katherine  Howard.  A  weary  period 
of  detention  at  Sion  House  followed — sharply  ended 
because  the  King  now  wished  to  shut  up  Katherine 
Howard    there.       So    Lady    Margaret  was    moved    on 


A   CERTAIN   JOURNEY  123 

to   the   care    of   the    Duke   of   Norfolk    on    the    East 
coast.     The    third    Katherine    whom    Henry   wooed — 
the  widowed    Parr — put  an   end    to   this    banishment, 
and  by  her  tact  and  kindness  reconciliations  took  place 
all  round  in  the  royal  house.     Lady  Margaret  played 
bridesmaid    and    lady-in-waiting   once    more,    and    her 
uncle  began  to  bestir  himself  about  her  marriage.     The 
man  she  wedded  at  the  age  of  thirty-two  after  so  much 
tossing  and  chasing,   imprisonment  and   poverty,  was 
the  very   Matthew,   Earl   of  Lennox,   whose   claim  to 
the  Scots  Crown  had  by  James  V  of  Scotland,  on  the 
death   of  his   two   sons,   been   preferred  against   those 
of  the  Earl   of  Arran.      Both   earls  were   kinsmen  of 
James,    and    because    of    their    high    ambitions    were 
engaged  in  undying  feud.     The  birth  of  a  royal  Scots 
heir,  in   Mary,  reduced  both  lords  to  the  same  level, 
but  did  not  diminish  the  pertinacity  of  Lennox,  who 
returned  from  France  to  England  with  the  design  of 
wedding   Mary's   mother,   Mary  of  Lorraine,  as   soon 
as  her  widowhood  pointed   her  out  as  eligible.      He 
was  a  handsome  fellow  and    perfected    in    the   graces 
of  courts  after  his  long  apprenticeship  in    France,  but 
he  did  not  have  his  way,  and  emissaries  from  England 
schemed  to  throw  Lady  Margaret  Douglas  in  his  path. 
England  was  eager  that  he  should  serve  her  purposes. 
As  consort  of  Mary  of  Lorraine  and  financed  by  France 
he  would  be  the  worst  enemy  of  England.     With  Lady 
Margaret  England  dangled  before  him  a  good  dowry. 
The  marriage,  adorned  by  the  blessing  of  Henry  VIII, 
took    place   with    great    ^clat    in    1544,   and    the   King 
flourished  his  sanction   in   a  speech   including  the  im- 
portant  declaration,  "  in  case   his  own   issue  failed   he 
should   be   right  glad   if  heirs  of  her  body  succeeded 


124  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

to  the  crown."  Nevertheless,  though  her  husband 
was  promised  the  regency  of  Scotland,  and  she  was 
awarded  residence  in  a  royal  palace  (Stepney),  she  did 
not  retain  the  King's  favour.  Quarrels  ensued  ; 
whether  brewed  by  the  spies  in  her  own  household 
in  London  or  in  Yorkshire  (where  she  established 
herself  in  order  to  be  nearer  her  husband,  engaged 
in  Border  invasions),  or  by  her  act  does  not  appear. 
Just  before  Henry  died  the  breach  was  complete,  and 
in  spite  of  her  having  given  birth  to  three  legitimate 
Tudor  heirs,  of  whom  Henry  Darnley  was  the  second, 
her  rights  and  those  of  her  offspring  from  the  regal  -^ 
succession  in  England  were  wiped  out. 

With  a  strength,  as  of  Antaeus,  the  much-buffeted 
lady  overrode  trouble  and  travelled  to  London  with 
her  child  Henry,  now  the  eldest  (her  first-born  died 
in  infancy),  to  pay  her  respects  to  her  cousin,  the 
new  King,  Edward  VL  How  she  faced  the  situation 
is  a  marvel.  Her  husband's  Border  cruelties  had 
made  him  unpopular,  and  she  was  coldly  looked  upon. 
Her  position  for  some  years  was  most  equivocal,  since, 
in  spite  of  her  close  relationship  to  the  queen  dowager 
of  Scotland,  she  could  not  present  to  this  lady,  her 
sister-in-law,  her  husband  Earl  Lennox,  traitor  to 
Scotland,  or  her  sons,  in  whom  the  Tudor  blood  was 
tainted  by  that  of  Lennox.  She  lived,  however,  in 
stately  fashion  in  Yorkshire,  followed  eagerly  the  ritual 
of  the  Romish  Church,  and  educated  her  children  in  it. 
Quarrels  with  her  father  Angus,  discussions  as  to  the 
disposal  of  his  property,  the  birth  of  her  eighth  child, 
and  the  impaired  health  of  her  lord  engrossed  her  now 
sufficiently.  Then  came  another  subtle  and  sudden 
change    of   fortunes    with    the    death    of  Edward   VI, 


A   CERTAIN   JOURNEY  125 

the  abortive  scheme  on  behalf  of  Lady  Jane  Grey,  and 
the  sudden  triumph  of  the  claims  of  Princess  Mary  over 
those  of  her  younger  sister  Elizabeth. 

During  the  reign  of  Mary  of  England  Lady  Lennox 
passed  into  calmer  waters.  She  did  not  abuse  her 
opportunities,  but  the  Queen's  favour  did  not  make 
Margaret  or  her  children  heirs  designate  to  Mary's 
crown. 

Exit  Mary,  enter  Elizabeth,  and  with  Elizabeth  a 
short  time  of  prosperity  !  Matthew  Lennox  secured 
eventually  his  regency  in  Scotland,  and  his  wife  was  in 
waiting  upon  Elizabeth  at  Windsor.  She  must  have 
felt  like  a  bat  emerging  from  a  cellar  after  the  constant 
misfortunes  and  rebuffs  of  the  past.  Disfavour,  dis- 
peace  were,  however,  always  her  portion,  and  very  soon 
closed  in  upon  her.  This  time  the  occasion  of  dis- 
turbance was  France.  Its  king  died.  Mary  of  Scotland 
became  queen  consort.  Lady  Lennox  saw  a  rich  chance 
of  using  influence  so  puissant  for  reinstating  her  hus- 
band and  herself  in  Scotland.  She  sent  one  messenger 
of  congratulation  and  again  another.  This  seems  to 
have  been  Henry  Darnley,  now  her  eldest  son,  who 
was  just  fifteen.  Thus  did  she  begin  to  lay  the  train 
of  circumstances  which  exploded  in  the  horrors  of  the 
night  of  Kirk-o'-Field.  From  this  till  the  actual  Darnley 
marriage  it  was  the  Lady  Lennox  even  more  than  her 
husband  who  invited  intrigue.  She,  like  other  keen 
aristocratic  plotters  of  the  day,  employed  not  only 
codes,  emissaries,  and  spies,  but  conjurors.  Little  she 
guessed  at  the  eavesdroppers  who  lurked  in  the  corners 
of  her  great  house  at  Settrington,  and  of  the  spies  whom 
the  Earl  of  Leicester  and  Lord  Burghley  employed  to 
catch  every  suspicious  word  and  record  every  private 


126  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

interview  within  her  walls.  One  fine  day  the  Queen's 
officers  invaded  and  seized  her  household,  conjurors 
included,  and  she  and  her  family  were  summoned  sharply 
to  Court.  A  sorry  journey  that,  though  not  the  first 
piece  of  pitiful  travelling  she  had  done.  Servants, 
children,  lord  and  lady  reached  the  capital,  and  were 
disposed  of  in  various  quarters.  The  Lennoxes  were 
ordered  to  their  own  apartments  in  Westminster  Palace, 
while  some  of  their  retinue  were  put  into  the  old  Gate 
House  prison  close  by.  How  young  Lord  Darnley 
managed  to  evade  watching  and  quietly  lose  himself  in 
London  is  a  mystery.  This  did  not  make  things  easier 
for  his  parents,  who  were  instantly  punished  by  separa- 
tion and  imprisonment,  he  in  the  Tower,  and  she  to 
strait  keeping  under  the  roof  of  Sir  Richard  and  Lady 
Sackville,  the  Queen's  cousins,  at  Sheen.  Lady  Lennox's 
religion  and  the  unjust  suggestion  that  she  had  been 
responsible  for  the  harsh  treatment,  by  the  late  Queen, 
of  her  sister  Elizabeth,  seemed  to  aggravate  the  case 
of  both  prisoners.  After  sickness,  pleadings,  and  in- 
dignation, husband  and  wife  were  permitted  to  share 
confinement  at  Sheen.  It  would  have  been  best  for 
them  if  they  had  been  kept  there  indefinitely.  How 
Elizabeth  ever  came  to  free  them  in  the  midst  of  her 
suspicions  and  fears  in  regard  to  the  marriage  of  Mary 
of  Scotland  is  extraordinary.  That  she  should  actually 
have  been  prevailed  upon  to  give  the  Earl  and  his  eldest 
son  a  passport  into  Scotland  is  still  more  so.  With 
the  Darnley  marriage  began  Lady  Lennox's  long  in- 
carceration in  the  Tower  itself — a  more  pitiful  imprison- 
ment than  any  she  had  experienced.  Her  children  were 
far  from  her ;  her  husband  and  eldest  son  were  too 
wise  to  risk  their  fate  by  obeying  Elizabeth's  absurd 


A   CERTAIN   JOURNEY  127 

order  to  return  to  Court.  Freedom  came  hand  in  hand 
with  the  terrible  news  of  Darnley's  murder.  What 
could  the  woman  do  but  break  forth  into  loud  com- 
plaints and  passionate  accusation  in  the  royal  presence  ? 
Was  it  strange  that,  worn  with  imprisonment,  the 
beauty  of  her  prime  gone,  her  face  disfigured  with 
many  sorrows,  her  dignity  and  royal  blood  degraded, 
she  should  address  a  petition  begging  the  Queen  to 
commit  Mary  to  trial  and  secure  the  speedy  execution 
of  justice  .''  Elizabeth  would  not  have  her  hand  forced. 
"  it  was  not  becoming,"  said  she,  "  to  fix  a  charge  so 
heinous  upon  the  princess  and  her  kinswoman  with- 
out producing  the  clearest  evidence."  She  would  not 
actually  accuse,  but  she  would  not  clear  her  enemy. 

Thus  there  was  reason  enough  for  Elizabeth's  later 
clemency  towards  the  Lennoxes.  It  suited  the  purpose 
of  queen  and  prisoner  that  they  should  now  join  issue 
against  the  murderess,  "  the  hure,"  against  "  Bothwell's 
wench."  It  suited  Lennox  well  that  he  should  be  in- 
stalled guardian  of  the  future  James  I,  and  Lady  Lennox, 
as  his  grandmother,  was  now  accorded  a  far  more  im- 
portant position  than  she  could  have  taken  had  her 
daughter-in-law  been  above  suspicion.  It  is  true  that 
financially  she  was  never  unembarrassed.  A  mansion 
at  Hackney,  formerly  the  property  of  the  ruined  family 
of  Percy,  was  awarded  to  her  as  a  residence,  but  it  does 
not  seem  to  have  been  much  of  a  home,  or  at  least,  her 
manner  of  living  there  seems  to  have  been  anything 
but  luxurious.  She  does  not  appear  to  have  been  much 
at  Court.  Gilbert  Talbot  alludes  to  her  in  a  letter 
already  quoted,  and  written  in  this  summer  of  1574: 
"  My  Lady  of  Lennox  hath  not  been  at  the  Court  since 
I  came."     Up  to  the  present  her  attitude  towards  Mary 


128  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

was  unchanged.  When  Lord  and  Lady  Burghley  visited 
Chatsworth  in  1570,  Margaret  Lennox  thought  it  neces- 
sary to  flog  a  dead  horse  and  add  by  letter  her  exhorta- 
tions to  the  warnings  of  Elizabeth  that  Mr.  Secretary 
should  be  on  his  guard  against  the  wiles  of  Mary.  Even 
Margaret — a  woman — knew  the  force  of  the  personal 
equation  in  this  case.  She  is  careful  to  add  :  "  Not  for 
any  fear  you  should  be  won,  which  as  her  Majesty  tells 
me  she  did  speak  to  you  at  your  departing,  but  to  let  you 
understand  how  her  Majesty  hath  had  some  talks  with 
me  touching  my  Lord.  .  .  .  Her  Majesty  says  that 
Queen  works  many  ways — I  answered  her  Majesty  was 
a  good  lady  to  her  and  better  I  thought  than  any  other 
prince  would  have  been  if  they  were  in  her  case,  for  she 
staid  publishing  abroad  her  wickedness  which  was  mani- 
festly known."  In  the  self-same  summer  from  Chats- 
worth  Mary,  the  daughter-in-law,  writes  to  her.  The 
content  and  tone  of  the  letters  is  pitiful  enough. 

"  Madame, — If  the  wrong  and  false  reports  of 
enemies  well  known  as  traitors  to  you,  alas  !  too  much 
trusted  by  me,  by  your  advice,  had  not  so  far  stirred 
you  against  my  innocence  (and  I  must  say  against  all 
kindness)  that  you  have  not  only  as  it  were  condemned 
me  wrongfully,  but  cherished,  as  your  words  and  deeds 
have  testified  to  all  the  world,  a  manifest  misliking 
against  your  own  blood,  I  would  not  have  omitted 
this  long  ago  duty  in  writing  to  you,  excusing  me  for 
those  untrue  reports  made  of  me,  but  hoping  with 
God's  grace  and  time  to  have  my  innocence  confirmed, 
as  I  trust  it  is  already,  even  to  the  most  indifferent 
persons.  I  thought  best  not  to  trouble  you  for  a  time 
till  now  another  matter  is  moved  that  toucheth  us  both. 


A   CERTAIN   JOURNEY  129 

which  is  the  transporting  of  your  little  son,  and  my 
only  child,  to  the  which  I  were  never  so  willing,  yet  I 
would  be  glad  to  have  your  advice  therein,  as  in  all 
other  things  touching  him.  I  have  borne  him,  and  God 
knoweth  with  what  danger  to  him  and  to  me,  and  of 
you  he  is  descended.  So  I  mean  not  to  forget  my  duty 
to  you  in  showing  therein  any  unkindness  to  you  not- 
withstanding how  unkindly  you  have  dealt  with  me,  but 
will  love  you  as  my  aunt  and  respect  you  as  my  mother- 
in-law.  And  if  it  please  you  to  know  further  of  my 
mind,  in  that  and  all  things  betwixt  us,  my  ambassador, 
the  Bishop  of  Ross,  shall  be  ready  to  confer  with  you. 

"And  so  after  my  hearty  commendations,  remitting 
you  to  the  said  ambassador  and  your  better  considera- 
tion, I  commit  you  to  the  protection  of  Almighty  God, 
whom  I  pray  to  preserve  you,  and  my  brother  Charles, 
and  cause  you  to  know  my  part  better  than  you  do — 
By  your  loving  daughter-in-law. 

"  (To  my  Lady  Lennox,  my  mother-in-law.)  "  ^ 

This  letter  was  delivered  to  Lady  Lennox  in  the 
Queen's  presence  some  months  after  it  was  written,  and 
Elizabeth  was  still  at  work  defaming  the  writer  to  her 
mother-in-law.  That  was  during  the  close  of  1570. 
In  1574  their  relations  were  in  no  wise  altered.  Lady 
Lennox  evidently  still  believed  her  son's  wife  guilty, 
while  she  pathetically  insisted  upon  her  rights  as  the 
grandmother  of  a  king.  In  this  capacity  she  applied 
to  the  Queen  for  a  safe-conduct  to  her  northern  house 
of  Settrington — now  restored  to  her — whither  she  wished 
to  repair  with  her  son  Charles  because  she  had  been 
informed  of  a  plot  to  carry  off  her  royal  grandson  and 

^  Leader,  Mary  Queen  of  Scots  in  Captivity, 

K 


I30  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

bring  him  to  England.  This  seems  to  have  been  a 
rather  well-worn  excuse  and  was  mistrusted  by  Elizabeth, 
who  about  this  time  began  to  entertain  doubts  of  her 
lady's  real  attitude  towards  the  imprisoned  "  dowager  of 
Scotland."  She  and  Lady  Shrewsbury  were  old  acquaint- 
ances at  Court.  The  latter  heard  of  the  projected  long 
journey,  and  invited  the  party  to  break  it  at  one  of  the 
Shrewsbury  "  places."  Chatsworth  offered  itself  as 
most  suitable,  but  she  was  right  in  her  surmise  that 
this  choice  would  only  appear  in  a  suspicious  light  to 
Elizabeth,  who  anticipated  it  in  the  admonition  she  be- 
stowed on  Lady  Lennox  before  her  departure.  Her 
Ladyship  showed  a  fine  indignation  at  such  a  suggestion, 
but  one  wonders  whether  this  was  not  merely  a  piece  of 
"  bluff,"  for  the  complicity  of  Mary  had  been  repeatedly 
denied  by  Bothwell  and  by  other  Scottish  lords  impli- 
cated in  the  dark  business  at  Kirk-o'-Field.  At  any 
rate  this  northern  journey  gave  colour  to  all  kinds  of 
imputations.  It  was  suggested  that  Lady  Lennox's 
ultimate  aim  was  simply  a  visit  of  tender  enquiry  and 
that  she  was  bound  actually  for  Scotland  to  assure 
herself  of  the  welfare  of  the  boy  James.  It  was 
thought,  again,  that  she  herself  would  kidnap  the  child 
and  bring  him  into  England  for  her  own  purposes  or  for 
those  of  her  daughter-in-law.  At  all  events  she  had 
her  way  and  started.  Lady  Shrewsbury  also  knew  that 
Chatsworth  was  much  too  near  Sheffield  Castle  to  allow 
of  the  reception  of  this  guest  without  literally  dis- 
obeying orders  from  Court.  She  decided,  therefore, 
upon  Rufford  Abbey  as  the  most  suitable  place.  Un- 
happily the  scheme  which  lay  behind  this  hospitality  has 
not  descended  to  posterity  in  the  form  of  letters.  But 
gradually  the  motives  underlying  the  invitation  show 


A   CERTAIN   JOURNEY  131 

themselves  clearly  enough.  Lady  Shrewsbury  had  still 
one  unmarried  daughter  for  whom  she  was  exerting 
herself  to  find  a  good  match.  She  had  her  eye  upon  a 
certain  young  Bertie,  a  son  of  the  Duchess  of  Suffolk 
by  a  second  marriage.  This  affair  could  not  be  accom- 
plished, and  she  therefore  worked  upon  the  Duchess's 
sympathy  so  as  to  secure  her  co-operation  in  a  new 
direction.  Lady  Lennox  and  her  son  Charles  on  their 
journey  halted  first  at  the  gates  of  the  Duchess's  house. 
Six  miles  away  was  Rufford,  where  Lady  Shrewsbury  had 
taken  her  daughter  and  made  all  ready  for  goodly  enter- 
tainment. To  the  Duchess's  house  she  sent  a  mes- 
senger, and  backed  up  the  invitation  by  a  personal  visit. 
Lady  Lennox  accepted  the  invitation,  and  with  her  son, 
coach,  baggage-carts,  mules,  and  attendants  arrived  at 
the  Abbey.  Previous  to  this  there  must  surely  have 
taken  place  an  interesting  three-cornered  interview  be- 
tween the  three  great  ladies.  Though  the  Duchess  of 
Suffolk  may  have  been  genuinely  interested  in  helping 
to  find  a  husband  for  wistful  young  Elizabeth  Cavendish, 
one  cannot  acquit  her  of  a  certain  malice.  Her  part  in 
the  transaction  wears  a  very  innocent  air.  Nothing 
happened  under  her  roof  for  which  she  could  be  called 
to  book  by  the  Queen.  At  the  same  time  she  was  a  hot 
Protestant  and  could  not  have  felt  any  very  great 
sympathy  for  the  Lady  Lennox,  nor  for  Lady  Shrews- 
bury, who,  as  regards  mere  creed,  must  always  have  been 
a  religious  opportunist. 

At  Rufford  Lady  Lennox  fell  ill.  There  was  excuse 
enough  after  the  exposure  to  cold  and  flood  in  the 
uncertain  autumn  weather  during  which  she  undertook 
her  journey.  She  was  forced  to  keep  her  room.  No- 
thing could  have  fallen  out  more  happily  to  assist  the 


132  BESS  OF   HARDWICK 

plot  of  the  hostess.  Her  hands  were  occupied  with 
her  friend's  ailments.  Their  children  must  amuse  one 
another.  In  five  days  the  close  companionship  between 
Charles  and  Elizabeth  could  not  but  grow,  fostered  by 
the  cleverness  of  the  girl's  mother.  Free  to  go  and 
come  in  gardens  and  woodland,  young  and  lithe,  eager 
to  escape  from  rules  and  duties  and  tutors,  to  forget 
sad  things — Elizabeth  Cavendish,  the  grim  details  of 
Sheffield  Castle,  its  alarums  and  excursions,  Charles 
Stuart,  the  tragedies  of  his  family — they  wooed  each 
other  readily.  Glimpses  of  their  courtship  are  visual- 
ised for  the  reader  in  imaginary  dialogue  following. 


CHAPTER   IX 


LOVE    AND    THE    WOODMAN 


Scene:  A  parlour  in  RufFord  Abbey,  October,  1 574.  Elizabeth 
Cavendish  bending  over  her  embroidery  frame.  The 
Countess  of  Shrewsbury  seated  writing. 

A  man's  voice  [calling  outside  the  window\.  Mistress  ! 
Mistress  Elizabeth  !     Come  out ! 

[Elizabeth  Cavendish  starts^  rises,  loo\s  at  her  mother. 

Countess  [apparently  stern].  Say  that  1  have  set  you  a 
task.     Now  do  not  go  to  the  window  ! 

Elizabeth  [checking  herself  half-way  to  the  window].  Nay, 
my  Lord,  I  cannot  come  indeed.  [Drops  her  voice.]  Oh  ! 
mother,  if  it  were  one  of  the  grooms  or  only  my 
brother  I 

Countess.  Little  fool  !  It  is  the  voice  of  Lennox. 
Mark  you — play  him  wisely. 

Lennox  [calling  again].  Mistress,  there  is  no  "cannot" 
when  the  sun  calls  ! 

Elizabeth.  My  Lord,  lady  mother  says  she  .  .  .  needs 
me. 

Lennox.  It  is  not  true.  She  is  brewing  a  hot  posset 
for  my  mother.     I  saw  her  shoulders  in  the  buttery. 

Countess  [her  shoulders  shaking].  Oho  !  it  was  Mrs. 
Glasse  he  saw.  I  gave  her  once  an  old  gown  of  mine 
to  wear. 

Elizabeth  [moving  to  the  window].  No,  no,  my  Lord, 
she  says  it  was  Mrs.  Gl.  .  .  .  [The  Countess  springs  upy 

133 


134  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

catches  her  sharply  by  the  wristy  and  gives  her  a  little  rap 
with  her  fan. '\ 

Countess.  S-s-t !  Let  him  think  I  am  not  here.  Play 
him,  play  him  ! 

Lennox.  What  is  that  you  say,  mistress  ? 

Elizabeth  [embarrassed  and  miserable^  Nothing.  .  .  . 
[Lennox  throws  his  cap  in  at  the  window.     It  falls  at 
her  feet.  ^ 

Countess.  Girl,  do  not  touch  it. 

Lennox.  Oh,  mistress,  how  the  sun  calls !  It  has 
called  my  cap.  Some  magic  has  given  wings  to  it  and 
it  is  gone. 

Elizabeth.  It  is  here  ! 

Countess.  Hush  !     Not  yet — not  yet. 

[Enter  at  back  a  maid  with  a  bowl  of  posset?^ 

Lennox.  Mistress,  is  my  cap  flown  in  at  your  window 
perchance  .^ 

Countess  [mimicking  Elizabeth^ s  voice].     Indeed,  no. 

Elizabeth.  Oh — lady  mother  ! 

[The  maid  with  the  posset  giggles^  and  receives  a  frown 
and  a  box  on  the  ear  for  her  pains.] 

Maid.  Will  your  la'ship's  grace  be  pleased  to  taste  ? 

Countess.  Nay,  nay,  I  cannot  abide  tansy,  but  it  is 
good  for  the  joints  and  for  rheumy  distillations,  and 
will  serve  the  Lady  Margaret  finely.  Go  you  and  wait 
for  me  at  her  door  with  the  bowl. 

Lennox.  Elizabeth,  I  know  you  have  my  cap.  With- 
out it  I  cannot  walk  abroad.     The  wind  is  cool. 

Elizabeth  [softly].  Oh,  mother,  he  will  have  the 
rheum  too  ! 

Countess.  Then  shall  he  stay  longer  and  be  well 
nursed  and  physicked  also. 

Lennox.  Bring  me  my  cap,  fair  mistress. 


LOVE   AND   THE   WOODMAN  135 

Bess  [in  Elizabeth's  voice'].  Come  and  fetch  it,  my  Lord. 

Lennox.  That  I  will,  if  you  will  come  out  with  me. 
But  not  till  you  promise. 

Bess  [to  Elizabeth],  Say  no — say  no. 

Elizabeth.  I  cannot,  because  .  .  .  because  ...  I 
have  much  work  to  do,  enough  for  .  .   .  many  days. 

Lennox.  It  can  tarry,  lady.  In  two  days  I  shall  be 
over  the  Border. 

Elizabeth  [agonised].  Oh,  mother  ! 

Bess  [in  the  feigned  voice].  Not  without  your  cap,  I 
trust,  my  Lord. 

Lennox,  What  if  you  give  it  me  back  } 

Elizabeth  [in  tears].  Mother,  why  does  he  not  come 
to  fetch  it } 

Bess.  Sh — sh.  I  scolded  him  well  but  half  an  hour 
ago,  and  bid  him  leave  you  alone  and  keep  out  of  my 
parlour. 

Elizabeth  [with  dignity].  Nay,  lady  mother,  he  shall 
have  his  cap.     [Pic]{s  it  up.] 

Bess  [taking  it  from  her].  He  shall,  young  impudence, 
but  he  shall  fetch  it.  Play  him.  Bet,  play  him  well, 
and  if  he  should  ask  you  go  into  the  meadows  .  .  . 
say  "  Yes."     But  not  in  haste,  mark  you  ! 

Elizabeth  [on  her  ^nees,  clinging  to  her  mother^s  gown]. 
Lady  mother  ...  I  mislike  it.  .  .  . 

Bess  [disengaging  herself].  «  It,"  "  it "  .?  What  is  "  it" .? 
He  is  a  pretty  young  man,  and  his  blood  runs  high 
like  Darnley's.  But  God  be  thanked  'tis  a  wiser  fool 
than  his  brother.  Now  remember  to  carry  yourself  as 
a  Cavendish  should.  Be  cautious  !  Make  no  false 
step.  I  go  to  cosset  and  posset  the  mother.  S'death, 
1  would  1  were  in  your  shoes,  Bet,  to  run  into  the 
woods  instead  of  tiptoe  round  a  sick-chamber. 


136  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

Elizabeth  [springing  up].  May  I  indeed  go  into  the 
woods  ? 

Bess  [at  the  door].  Sh-sh.  .  .  .  Cavendo  tutus  !^ 

Elizabeth  [half  runs  to  the  window  with  the  cap,  stops, 
smiles].  My  Lord  ! 

Lennox.  Are  you  alone,  mistress  ? 

Elizabeth.  Yes.  .  .   .  No.  .  .  . 

Lennox.  Who  is  there  ? 

Elizabeth.  Your  cap !  [Loo\s  laughing  out  of  the 
window.] 

Lennox.  Coming,  coming  !  [A  minute  later  he  bursts 
open  the  door  and  greets  her,  walJ^  to  the  embroidery  frame, 
pushes  it  into  a  corner,  and  holds  out  his  hand.]  Into  the 
sun,  Elizabeth. 

Elizabeth  [shyly].  I  have  not  my  hood,  my  Lord. 

Lennox.  Charles,  Elizabeth  ! 

Elizabeth.  Charles  .  .  .  my  Lord. 

Lennox.  Into  the  woods,  my  Lady.  What  matters 
your  hood  .?  The  sun  cannot  fire  your  hair  if  you  wear 
a  hood  !  [Draws  her  down  the  stairway.  At  the  foot  of  it 
she  slips  her  hand  from  his,  and  they  pass  demurely  across  the 
courtyard  and  out  into  the  meadows,  talking  of  light  and  little 
things.  From  time  to  time  Lennox  sings  snatches  of  song.  The 
larks  trill  overhead.     They  plunge  into  the  woods.] 

Elizabeth.  Oh,  Charles,  I  feel  as  though  I  had  grown 
lark's  wings  .  .  .  like  your  cap. 

Lennox.  No,  no.  If  you  would  grow  into  a  bird, 
then  I  shall  needs  become  a  fowler. 

Elizabeth.  Nay,  you  shall  have  wings  too. 

Lennox.  Why  have  we  not  wings,  Elizabeth  } 

Elizabeth  [looking  up  into  the  sky  between  the  branches]. 
God  is  wise,  Charles.     And  we  have  the  beautiful  warm 

^  The  Cavendish  motto,  meaning  "  Secure  by  taking  care." 


LOVE   AND   THE   WOODMAN  137 

earth  and  all  the  flowers  to  joy  us.  Meseems  it  is  more 
comfortable  to  talk  upon  the  earth  than  in  the  branches. 
.  .  .  And  to  build  our  mansions  on  the  earth,  too. 
Charles.  .   .  . 

Lennox.  Mansions  }  I  hate  them.  Great  chambers 
in  which  one  must  shiver  in  cold  state  because  one  is 
poor,  great  chairs  in  which  one  must  sit  very  straight 
and  look  wise,  great  windows  where  the  snow  and  rain 
beat  and  trickle  in,  or  little  ones  which  bar  the  sun. 
In  Scotland  they  are  like  that,  little  and  narrow  in  the 
great  castles.     1  hate  them. 

Elizabeth  [^proudly].  In  England  we  have  great  win- 
dows secure  against  storms.  You  should  see  my 
mother's  house  at  Hardwick,  Charles.  It  has  high 
windows.  And  so  fair  the  house.  And  she  says  she 
will  build  one  there  still  greater  and  fairer. 

Lennox.  But  I  desire  no  great  house.  You  are  little, 
I  am  not  great.  ...  I  want  a  little  house,  a  bower.  .  .  . 

Elizabeth.  My  Lord.  .  .  . 

Lennox  [with  his  arm  about  her].  A  bower  with  you, 
which  I  would  build  out  of  the  trees,  my  own  self,  like 
the  knight  who  loved  the  lady. 

Elizabeth.     Ah  }     Who  was  she  ? 

Lennox.  A  lady,  like  you,  Elizabeth,  and  not  much 

taller,  so  I  take  it.     I  read  of  her  in  a  little  book.     See 

.  .  .  here  it  is.     \Pulls  a  volume  out  of  the  bosom  of  his 

jerking     My  brother  Darnley  gave  it  me  once.     It  is  a 

love  tale,  all  in  French,  and  very  curious. 

Elizabeth.  Read  it  to  me,  Charles. 

Lennox.  Sweetheart,  I  cannot  read  it  all  because  the 
words  are  so  strange,  but  my  brother  writ  portions  of 
the  rightful  meanings  on  the  margins.  .  .  .  Come  .  .  . 
let  us  sit.   .  .  .  [He  draws  her  to  a  place  under  the  trees.] 


138  BESS   OF  HARDWICK 

Elizabeth.  Charles  ...  I  am  afraid.  .  .  . 

Lennox.  Not  with  me.  .  .  . 

Elizabeth.  There  are  woodmen.  .  .  .  They  go  to 
and  fro. 

Lennox.  What  of  that .''  There  are  woodmen  in  the 
story — many.     [Opens  the  book.] 

Elizabeth.  Listen,  I  hear  their  axes — chip,  chop. 
They  are  cutting  into  pieces  the  lovely  trees  they  felled 
in  the  spring.     It  is  very  sad. 

Lennox.  Dear,  you  are  sweetly  foolish.  They  cannot 
hurt  you. 

Elizabeth  [sadly].    So  do  they  cut  down  the  happy  trees. 

Lennox.  Happy  to  be  cut  down  to  build  bowers  for 
you  and  me.  .  .  .  Listen.  .  .  .  [Turns  over  the  leaves.] 
She  was  a  fairy  maiden. 

Elizabeth  [shocked].  Oh  !     Then  she  said  no  prayers. 

Lennox.  Her  foster-father  took  her  from  the  fairies, 
and  what  prayers  she  missed  she  learnt  at  the  feet  of 
love. 

Elizabeth.  Where  did  she  first  see  her  lover  .  .  .} 

Lennox.  How  can  I  tell }  He  loved  her  from  the 
beginning  ...  as  I  love  you. 

Elizabeth.  .  .   .  The  beginning  } 

Lennox.  Two  days  ago. 

Elizabeth  [starting  up].  A  woodman  comes.  [He  pulls 
her  down  again.] 

Lennox.  How  can  I  tell  the  story  if  you  run  away  .'' 

Elizabeth.  Indeed  ...  1  love  to  listen. 

Lennox  [goes  on  rapidly].  Well  .  .  .  thus  was  it.  These 
two  loved  .  .  .  oh,  terribly  !  And  the  father  of  the 
knight,  a  great  count,  parted  them,  since  the  boy  would 
not  go  fight  against  his  country's  enemies  except  he  wedded 
the  lady  .   .   .  and  the  Count  bid  her  foster-father  shut 


LOVE   AND  THE   WOODMAN  139 

her  in  a  prison  so  that  she  should  weave  no  spells  about 
him  more. 

Elizabeth.  This  is  too  sad  a  story.     \JVipes  her  eyesJ] 

Lennox.  It  was  a  very  fair  prison  in  a  great  castle, 
dearest.  .  .  .  And  she  quickly  escaped  from  it  by  her  art. 

Elizabeth.  Good,  good  ! 

Lennox.  But  her  love  knew  not  where  she  went.  .  .  . 
And  he  said  to  his  father,  "  If  I  trounce  your  foes  in 
battle,  let  me  but  kiss  my  lady."  To  which  the  lord 
said  "  Yes."  But  he  kept  not  his  word,  and  put  the 
knight  in  prison  when  he  came  home  bruised  and  weary 
after  battle. 

Elizabeth.  Alack  ! 

Lennox.  But  she — she  found  the  prison  and  sang 
through  the  window,  and  cut  her  hair  to  throw  into  the 
chamber  that  he  might  remember  her. 

Elizabeth  {slyly^    Like  your  cap,  but  just  now,  Charles. 

Lennox.  Yes,  yes.  .  .  .  And  they  called  courage  to 
one  another  till  the  soldiers  came  and  she  hid  for  fear 
they  should  kill  her.  .  .  .  And  then  she  walked  far 
till  she  came  to  a  great  wood.  .  .  .  [^A  woodman  passes 
with  his  axe.] 

Elizabeth.  There  is  the  axe,  again.  It  minds  me  of 
— of  death,  Charles  ! 

Lennox.  Dearest,  it  is  only  a  foolish  axe  to  chop  your 
lady  mother's  fuel. 

Elizabeth.     And  how  did  the  knight  find  his  lady  } 

Lennox.  When  the  Count  deemed  the  fairy  lady 
gone  for  ever  he  let  his  son  the  knight  come  out  of  the 
tower  where  he  was,  and  feasted  him.  But  the  lady 
dwelt  in  the  woods  and  he  knew  it  not. 

Elizabeth  [indignant'].  He  stayed  to  feast  while  she 
wandered  in  a  strange  wood  } 


I40  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

Lennox.  He  stayed  but  little.  And  when  he  could 
he  took  his  horse  and  rode  out  and  came  to  five  roads 
which  met.  .  .  .  Stay  .  .  .  my  brother  writ  of  these 
cross-roads.  It  is  a  pretty  conceit  he  made.  The  one 
was  called  "  The  World,"  and  another  "  The  Wars,"  a 
third  was  "  Power,"  and  the  fourth  .  .  .  see,  can  you 
read  this  ? 

Elizabeth.   "  Riches."   And  the  next  word  is  "Poverty." 

Lennox.     There  he  waited — perplexed. 

Elizabeth.     Quick,  quick  !     Which  did  he  choose  ? 

Lennox.  Faith,  he  tried  them  all  save  "  Poverty."  .  .  . 
Yet  when  he  would  travel  down  one  or  the  other  her 
voice  called  him  back,  and  his  horse  stood  like  stone  till 
the  knight  trembled  in  the  twilight  and  feared  she  was 
all  a  fairy  and  no  woman,  but  mocked  him.  And  then 
from  his  bosom  there  fell  a  sheaf  of  her  hair.  When 
he  stooped  to  gather  it,  it  grew  into  a  fine  chain,  the  end 
whereof  he  could  not  see,  and  it  closed  about  his 
wrist  like  a  bracelet  and  drew  him  to  the  road  called 
"  Poverty." 

Elizabeth.     Then,  surely,  he  rode  fast } 

Lennox.  Horse  and  man  were  exceeding  glad — so 
says  the  book  .  .  .  because  of  the  noble  road  which 
opened  before  them.  .  .  .  And  the  moon  and  the  sun 
shone  together  upon  them  till  at  last  they  were  come  to 
a  little  house  of  boughs  twined  with  lilies.  .  .  .  Over 
the  door  was  written,  "  Her  Heart  and  My  Desire  "... 
and  there  he  found  his  lady,  singing  fairy  songs  because 
she  knew  that  he  was  faithful.  .  ,  .  [Closes  the  book  and 
bends  over  her.] 

Elizabeth  [softly].  And  there  they  stayed  surely  a 
little  while. 

Lennox.  .  .  .  To  the  end  of  the  world.  .  .  . 


LOVE   AND   THE   WOODMAN  141 

Elizabeth.  .  .  .  But  the  woodman  came  by  with  his 
axe  to  cut  down  the  bower. 

Lennox.     Not  in  this  tale. 

Elizabeth.     The  lilies  faded. 

Lennox.     They  were  fadeless. 

Elizabeth.  They  grew  old  .  .  .  and  .  .  .  could  not 
feel  the  sun.  .  .  . 

Lennox.     Never,  never. 

Elizabeth.  I  would  it  were  true,  Charles.  [The  sound 
of  the  axe  again  interrupts  them.  There  is  laughter  from 
men,  who  pass  and  repass  and  point  out  the  lovers  to  each 
other.]  There  1  They  have  seen  us — the  rude  wood- 
men. We  have  no  bower  any  more.  [Hurries  away 
from  the  tree.] 

Lennox  [in  pursuit].  What  mean  you  by  this  "  wood- 
man "  .  .  .   .? 

Elizabeth  [holding  out  her  hands  for  protection].  I  mean 
there  .  .  .  is  no  for  ever.  .  .  .  They  died,  and  the  lilies 
and  the  branches  died.  Let  us  go  home.  .  .  .  Charles, 
hide  me  .  .  .  from  the  woodman  ! 

Lennox.  Always,  always  !  Elizabeth,  stay  with  me. 
Do  not  ever  go  from  me.  You  .  .  .  you  shall  never 
die! 

[He puts  his  cloak  about  her  and  they  walk,  closely  knit,  through 
the  meadows  till  they  reach  the  Abbey.  At  the  gates 
they  slip  apart  and  go  in  demurely  as  before.  The 
Countess  looks  through  a  window  on  to  the  court  over 
which  they  pass.] 

Countess.     Bet,  come  instantly  to  your  chamber  ! 

Lennox  [saluting].  My  Lady,  she  cannot  leave  me. 
For  so  has  she  promised. 

Countess.     Lord,  Lord  !     What  have  you  done  .'' 

Elizabeth,     Lady  mother,  I  .  ,  . 


142  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

Countess.  Come  in,  come  in,  you  sad  fools.  Every 
scullion  will  hear  you.  [The  three  meet  on  the  staircase  and 
the  Countess  motions  them  austerely  into  the  parlour."] 

Countess  [to  Lennox].  I  bid  you  stay  far  from 
Elizabeth. 

Elizabeth.  Oh,  mother,  make  no  more  feints.  He 
loves  me.     If  he  goes  from  me  .  .  .  [Her  voice  breaks.] 

Lennox.  My  Lady,  she  will  go  to  the  Border  with  me 
and  into  the  world. 

Countess  [with  a  cry  of  dismay].  So,  so.  .  .  .  "  He 
loves  me."  ..."  I  will  go  over  the  Border."  .  .  .  And 
how  shall  a  poor  woman  permit  such  naughty  contriv- 
ings  I 

Elizabeth.  Mother.  .  .  .  We  are  not  naughty.  I 
did  not  know  he  loved  me  till  .  .  .  till  we  spoke  of  a 
story.  .  .  .  And  then  ...  it  was  very  sweet,  mother 
.  .  .  till  the  woodmen  came.  .  .  .  And  1  was  frightened 
and  ran,  and  .  .  .  Charles  bid  me  come  home.  .  .  . 
He  says  the  woodman  .  .  .  [Turns  to  Lennox  for  pro- 
tection.] 

Countess  [with  a  cry  of  anger].  The  woodmen.  What 
is  this  of  the  woodmen  } 

Elizabeth.     They  mocked,  and  .   .   . 

Countess.  Lord,  Lord  !  .  .  .  What  is  to  be  done  now 
.  .  .}  You  should  both  be  whipped.  The  woodmen  to 
see  you  kissing  and  cozening  under  the  trees  .?  The 
woodmen  }  And  you  a  Cavendish  !  Stay  you  here  till 
I  have  told  the  Lady  Lennox.  Oh,  oh,  oh  !  that  I 
should  have  such  a  tale  for  her.  .  .  . 
[At  the  sound  of  her  voice  Lady  Lennox^  roused,  comes  down  the 
corridor  in  her  bedgown.] 

Countess.     My  Lady  ! 

Lennox.     Mother.  .  .  . 


LOVE   AND   THE   WOODMAN  143 

hady  Lennox.  ...  1  was  affrighted.  I  thought  you 
wept,  my  Lady. 

Countess,  Matter  for  weeping,  in  truth.  [Points  to 
Elizabeth  and  Lennox^  who  stand  together.'] 

Lady  Lennox.     But  .  .  .  how  }     [Sinks  into  a  chair.] 

Countess  [vehemently],  .  .  .  My  Lady,  .  .  .  these 
naughty  children  have  carried  themselves  no  better  than 
a  pair  of  turtle-doves  ;  and  all  in  the  woods.  .  .  .  And 
the  whole  world  knows  it.  My  very  woodmen  .  .  . 
low  fellows  .  .  .  laughed  !  .  .  .  Your  son  plots  to  carry 
my  Elizabeth  over  the  Border  an  if  she  were  a  truss  of 
hay  !  And  she,  the  wretch,  too,  content  to  be  bundled 
that  way  .  .  .  any  way  ...  so  long  as  it  be  on  his 
road  !  Oh  !  my  Lady,  help  us  all,  lest  shame  fall  on 
my  house. 

Lennox  [defiant].  No  shame  to  love  well,  my  Lady. 
Are  there  no  priests  ?     And  this  an  Abbey  ! 

Lady  Lennox,  Boy,  go  you  to  your  room  and  leave 
me  talk  with  my  Lady  here. 

Lennox,  I  go  with  Elizabeth  to  the  gallery.  When 
you  call,  mother,  we  will  come.  .  .  .  [Kisses  her  hand 
and  goes  out  with  Elizabeth,] 

Lady  Lennox,     A  priest  1     There  is  time  enough.  .  .  . 

Countess.  How  do  I  know  if  they  will  not  fly  like 
birds  together  if  we  say  them  "  Nay  "  } 

Lady  Lennox.  .  .  .  The  saints  forbid  !  .   .  . 

Countess  [quickly].  The  boy  is  wild  .  .  .  for  love 
makes  wildlings  of  men.  ...  It  is  the  only  word  of 
wisdom  he  has  said  .   .  .  that  of  the  priest. 

Lady  Lennox.     Great  Heaven  !   .  .   . 

Countess.  Young  fools.  .  .  .  Yet,  if  we  part  them 
.  .  .  shall  not  our  consciences  give  us  everlasting 
punishment  ? 


144  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

Lady  Lennox.  True,  true.  .  .  .  The  girl  is  very 
gentle,  my  Lady.  .  .  .  There  is  a  look  in  her  eye  that 
.  .  .  And  he  is  very  ripe  for  love.  YFhe  Countess  punctu- 
ates her  speeches  with  sympathetic  gestures.]  And  1  have 
seen  much  sorrow,  and  the  House  of  Lennox  dies  .  .  . 
with  Charles. 

Countess.  Come  ...  let  us  not  talk  of  death  .  .  . 
but  look  properly  upon  this  matter  and  devise,  instead 
of  funerals,  weddings.  Come,  my  sweet  friend,  dear 
Lady  ...  to  your  chamber.  .  .  .  Rest,  and  let  us 
comfort  one  another.  .  .  .  Come  !  [She  supports  Lady 
Lennox  out  of  the  room.] 


CHAPTER   X 


AFTERMATH 


''  I  "'HERE  was,  as  the  two  mothers  agreed,  but  one 
way  out  of  it  all — a  speedy  marriage.  No  time 
to  invite  the  blessing  of  the  bride's  stepfather,  no 
time  for  signing  of  deeds,  or  for  collecting  bride-gear, 
or  for  endowing  boy  and  girl  with  house  and  lands. 
These  things  would  as  well  be  done  afterwards  as  now, 
and  a  pompous  family  wedding  in  the  Shrewsbury 
household  would  just  now  have  been  attended  with  all 
sorts  of  difficulties.  Without  more  ado  the  matter  was 
settled,  and  the  actual  wedding  seems  to  have  taken 
place  at  Rufford  in  the  presence  of  only  a  very  few 
persons.  Indeed,  in  the  words  of  one  historian,  the 
pair  "  married  almost  as  soon  as  Lady  Lennox  was  able 
to  leave  her  bedroom."  It  has  been  suggested  by  the 
same  writer  that  the  two  dowagers,  in  aiding  and 
abetting  the  marriage,  were  at  cross  purposes.  It  is 
certain  that  Lady  Shrewsbury  had  met  her  match  in 
character,  purpose,  and  ability  in  intrigue.  She  could 
not  have  been  able  to  persuade  Margaret  Lennox  in  the 
affair  against  her  will  and  conscience.  Henderson 
elaborates  the  suggestion  thus  :  "  The  motive  of  Lady 
Lennox  was  probably  reconciliation  with  the  Queen  of 
Scots,  through  the  new  connection  formed  with  the 
Shrewsburys.  If  Elizabeth  died — and  there  was  a 
general  impression  that  she  would  not  live  long — Mary 
L  145 


146  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

might  very  possibly  succeed  her  ;  and  though  Lady 
Lennox  thought  it  prudent  to  assert  to  Elizabeth  that 
she  never  could  have  dealings  with  the  Queen  of  Scots, 
since,  being  flesh  and  blood,  she  could  not  forget  the 
murder  of  her  child,  yet  she  did  not  wish  to  debar 
herself  from  all  further  favour  from  the  possible  Queen 
of  England,  who  was  also  the  mother  of  her  grandchild 
(i.e.  James  of  Scotland).  As  for  Mary,  nothing  could 
suit  her  better  than  a  reconciliation  with  Lady  Lennox, 
since  it  would  mean  the  renewal  of  support  from  many 
Catholics  who  had  been  estranged  from  her  by  the  cir- 
cumstances attending  the  death  of  Darnley.  In  any 
case,  whatever  Mary's  part  in  the  accomplishment  of  the 
marriage,  and  whether  any  understanding  was  then 
arrived  at  by  her  with  Lady  Lennox  or  not,  Mary,  after 
the  death  of  Lady  Lennox  in  1578,  affirmed  that  she 
had  been  reconciled  to  her  for  five  or  six  years,  and  that 
Lady  Lennox  sent  her  letters  expressing  regret  at  the 
wrong  she  had  done  her  in  the  accusations  she  had  been 
induced  to  make  against  her,  at  the  instance  of  Eliza- 
beth and  her  Council."^ 

This  is,  however,  a  part  of  future  history.  The  facts 
show  that  Mary  seems  to  have  had  no  hand  in  the 
marriage,  and  we  cannot  imagine  that  after  carefully 
balancing  all  possibilities  Lady  Shrewsbury  would  have 
invited  her  interest.  The  whole  thing  would  have  been 
revealed  and  exaggerated  by  spies,  and  thus  assume  the 
form  of  a  very  serious  plot.  Lady  Lennox  certainly 
trusted  to  Elizabeth's  credence  in  her  old  enmity 
against  her  daughter-in-law  to  clear  her  from  blame. 
Lady  Shrewsbury  doubtless  pretended   to  herself  that 

^  Mary  Queen  of  Scots:  Her  Environment  and  Tragedy y  by  T.  F, 
Henderson, 


AFTERMATH  147 

she  could  not  be  justly  accused  of  a  grab  at  royal  rights, 
on  behalf  of  her  family,  since  Scotland  had  already  its 
King  and  it  was  open  to  England  to  name  a  successor. 
La  Mothe  F^ndlon,  the  French  Ambassador,  feared 
that  the  Lennox  intimacy  would  estrange  the  Shrews- 
burys  from  Mary,  and  so  make  her  case  harder.  The 
very  contrary  happened,  as  the  correspondence  reveals. 

For  the  moment  we  are  concerned  with  the  days 
immediately  following  that  sudden  ceremony  at  Ruf- 
ford.  Details  of  the  itinerary  of  the  bridal  pair  are 
not  forthcoming,  neither  does  it  appear  where  the  older 
Lady  Lennox  went  after  her  momentous  visit,  nor 
whether  young  Elizabeth  and  her  husband  took  shelter 
with  her  mother  or  his.  News  of  the  event  did  not 
reach  the  Queen  till  fully  a  month  later.  Instantly  she 
scented  treason.  Here  was  a  chance  for  her  to  behave 
once  more  after  the  pattern  of  her  autocratic  father. 
She  belaboured  the  Earl  of  Shrewsbury,  and  despatched 
to  both  dowagers  and  the  bride  and  bridegroom  a 
summons  to  Court. 

Lord  Shrewsbury,  who  in  these  days  scarcely  ever 
put  pen  to  paper  except  to  expostulate,  explain,  and 
apologise,  wrote  three  separate  letters  on  the  subject — 
to  the  Queen,  to  Burghley,  and  to  Lord  Leicester.  It 
will  suffice  to  quote  the  two  first  : — 

"  May  it  please  your  excellent  Majesty, 

"The  commandment  your  Majesty  once  gave 
me,  that  I  should  sometimes  write  to  you,  although  I 
had  little  to  write  of,  boldeneth  me  thus  to  presume, 
rather  to  avoid  blame  of  negligence  than  dare  tarry 
long  for  any  matter  worthy  your  Majesty's  hearing  ; 
only  this  I  may  write  ;  it  is  greatly  to  my  comfort  to 


148  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

hear  your  Majesty  passed  your  progress  in  perfect 
health  and  so  do  continue.  I  pray  to  Almighty  God 
to  hold  it  many  years,  and  long  after  my  days  ended  ; 
so  shall  your  people  find  themselves  most  happy. 

"  This  Lady,  my  charge,  is  safe  at  your  Majesty's 
commandment. 

"  And,  may  it  further  please  your  Majesty,  I  under- 
stood of  late  your  Majesty's  displeasure  is  sought 
against  my  wife,  for  marriage  of  her  daughter  to  my 
Lady  Lennox's  son.  I  must  confess  to  your  Majesty, 
as  true  it  is,  it  was  dealt  in  suddenly,  and  without  my 
knowledge  ;  but  as  I  dare  undertake  and  ensure  to  your 
Majesty,  for  my  wife,  she,  finding  her  daughter  dis- 
appointed of  young  Bart6,  where  she  hoped  that  the 
other  young  gentleman  was  inclined  to  love  with  a  few 
days'  acquaintance,  did  her  best  to  further  her  daughter 
in  this  match  ;  without  having  therein  any  other  intent 
or  respect  than  with  reverend  duty  towards  your 
Majesty  she  ought.  I  wrote  of  this  matter  to  my 
Lord  Leicester  a  good  while  ago  at  great  length.  1 
hid  nothing  from  him  that  I  knew  was  done  about  the 
same,  and  thought  not  meet  to  trouble  your  Majesty 
therewith,  because  I  took  it  to  be  of  no  such  im- 
portance as  to  write  of,  until  now  that  I  am  urged  by 
such  as  I  see  will  not  forbear  to  devise  and  speak  what 
may  procure  any  suspicion,  or  doubtfulness  of  my  ser- 
vice here.  But  as  I  have  always  found  your  Majesty 
my  good  and  gracious  Sovereign,  so  do  1  comfort  my- 
self that  your  wisdom  can  find  out  right  well  what 
causes  move  them  thereunto,  and  therefore  am  not 
afraid  of  any  doubtful  opinion,  or  displeasure  to  remain 
with  your  Majesty  of  me,  or  of  my  wife,  whom  your 
highness  and    your  council   have   many  ways   tried   in 


AFTERMATH  149 

times  of  most  danger.  We  never  had  any  thought  or 
respect  but  as  your  Majesty's  most  true  and  faithful 
servants  ;  and  so  do  truly  serve  and  faithfully  love  and 
honour  your  Majesty,  ever  praying  to  Almighty  God 
for  your  Majesty,  as  we  are  in  duty  bounden. 

"  SHEFFiELDy  2nd  of  Decemifery  1574." 

The  other  letter  is  headed  : — 

"To  My  Lord  Tre  .  .  .   .  , 

"My  very  good  Lord,  for  that  I  am  advertised 
the  late  marriage  of  my  wife's  daughter  is  not  well 
taken  in  the  Court,  and  thereupon  are  some  conjectures 
more  than  well,  brought  to  her  Majesty's  ears,  in  ill 
part  against  my  wife  ;  I  have  a  little  touched  the  same 
in  my  letters  now  to  her  Majesty,  referring  further 
knowledge  thereof  to  letters  I  sent  my  Lord  of  Leices- 
ter a  good  while  since,  wherein  I  made  a  long  discourse 
of  that  matter  ;  and  if  your  Lordship  meet  with  any- 
thing thereof  that  concerns  my  wife  or  me,  and  sounds 
in  ill  part  against  us,  let  me  crave  of  your  Lordship  so 
much  favour  as  to  speak  your  knowledge  and  opinion 
of  us  both.  No  man  is  able  to  say  so  much  as  your 
Lordship  of  our  service  because  you  have  so  carefully 
searched  it,  with  great  respect  to  the  safe  keeping  of  my 
charge.     So  I  take  leave  of  your  Lordship. 

"Sheffield,  ind  Decembery  iSl'\-'^ 

These  letters  did  not  help  matters  in  the  slightest. 
The  two  Countesses  were  obliged  to  go  to  Court  for 
chastisement,  and  apparently  Bess  Shrewsbury  repaired 
thither  before  any  interview  could  be  secured  with  her 
husband.  Nor  have  any  letters  from  her  been  found 
to  show  whether  she  was  awestruck  or  defiant,  though 


I50  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

correspondence  must  have  passed  between  wife  and  hus- 
band upon  a  matter  so  urgent. 

The  fateful  northern  journey  took  place  about  October 
9th.  Queen  Elizabeth's  summons  was  dated  November 
17th,  and  reached  the  delinquents  within  a  few  days. 
Lady  Lennox,  who,  in  her  royal  capacity  and  as  mother 
of  the  bridegroom,  may  legally  be  regarded  as  the 
prime  offender,  followed  Lord  Shrewsbury's  example 
of  explanation  and  expostulation.  She,  too,  wrote 
promptly  to  Lords  Burghley  and  Leicester  : — ^ 

"  My  very  good  Lord, 

"Assuring  myself  of  your  friendship  I  will  use 
but  few  words  at  this  present,  other  than  to  let  you 
understand  of  my  wearisome  journey  and  the  heavy 
burden  of  the  Queen's  Majesty's  displeasure,  which  1 
know  well  I  have  not  deserved,  together  with  a  letter 
of  small  comfort  that  I  received  from  my  Lord  of 
Leicester,  which  being  of  your  Lordship  read,  1  shall 
desire  to  be  returned  to  me  again.  I  also  send  unto  your 
Lordship,  here  enclosed,  the  copy  of  my  letter  now  sent 
to  my  Lord  of  Leicester  ;  and  I  beseech  you  to  use 
your  friendship  towards  me  as  you  see  time.  Thus 
with  my  hearty  commendations,  I  commit  you  to 
Almighty  God,  whom  I  beseech  to  send  you  long  life  to 
your  heart's  desire.  Huntingdon  this  3  of  December. 
"  Your  Lordship's  assured  loving  friend, 

"  Margaret  Lennox. 

"To  the  Right  Honourable  my  very  good  Lord  and 
friend,  the  Lord-Treasurer  of  England." 

It  is  unfortunate  that  one  of  the  enclosures,  the  letter 

State  Papers — Domestic,  quoted  by  Miss  Strickland. 


AFTERMATH  151 

from  Leicester,  is  not  to  be  found,  for  it  would  have 
been  interesting  to  read  that  gentleman  for  once  in  a 
mood  that  was  not  suave  and  reassuring. 

The  letter  to  Leicester  gives  a  graphic  description  of 
her  uncomfortable  journey  across  flooded  country  : — ^ 

"Huntingdon,  T)ecemher  2i  ^574- 

'*  My  very  good  Lord, — The  great  unquietness  and 
trouble  that  I  have  had  with  passing  these  dangerous 
waters,  which  hath  many  times  enforced  me  to  leave 
my  way,  which  hath  been  some  hindrance  to  me  that 
hitherto  I  have  not  answered  your  Lordship's  letters 
chiefly  on  that  point  wherein  your  Lordship,  with  other 
my  friends  (as  your  Lordship  says)  seems  ignorant  how 
to  answer  for  me.  And  being  forced  to  stay  this  pre- 
sent Friday  in  Huntingdon,  somewhat  to  refresh  myself, 
and  my  overlaboured  mules,  that  are  both  crooked  and 
lame  with  their  extreme  labour  by  the  way,  I  thought 
good  to  lay  open  to  your  Lordship,  in  these  few  lines, 
what  I  have  to  say  for  me,  touching  my  going  to  Ruf- 
ford  to  my  Lady  of  Shrewsbury,  both  being  thereunto 
very  earnestly  requested,  and  the  place  not  one  mile 
distant  out  of  my  way.  Yea,  and  a  much  fairer  way,  as 
is  well  to  be  proved  ;  and  my  Lady  meeting  me  herself 
upon  the  way,  I  could  not  refuse,  it  being  near  XXX 
miles  from  Shefiield.  And  as  it  was  well  known  to  all 
the  country  thereabouts  that  great  provision  was  there 
made  both  for  my  Lady  of  Suffblk  and  me — who  friendly 
brought  me  on  the  way  to  Grantham,  and  so  departed 
home  again,  neither  she  nor  I  knowing  any  such  thing 
till  the  morning  after  1  came  to  Newark.     And  so  I 

1  State  Papers — Domestic. 


152  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

meant  simply  and  well,  so  did  I  least  mistrust  that  my 
doings  should  be  taken  in  evil  part,  for,  at  my  coming 
from  her  Majesty,  I  perceived  she  misliked  of  my  Lady  of 
Suffolk  being  at  Chatsworth,  I  asked  her  Majesty  if  I 
were  bidden  thither,  for  that  had  been  my  wonted  way 
before  if  I  might  go.  She  prayed  me  not,  lest  it  should 
be  thought  I  should  agree  with  the  Queen  of  Scots. 
And  I  asked  her  Majesty,  if  she  could  think  so,  for  I 
was  made  of  flesh  and  blood,  and  could  never  forget  the 
murder  of  my  child.  And  she  said,  *  Marry,  by  her 
faith  she  could  not  think  so  that  ever  I  could  forget  it, 
for  if  I  would  I  were  a  devil.'  Now,  my  Lord,  for  that 
hasty  marriage  of  my  son,  Charles,  after  that  he  had 
entangled  himself  so  that  he  could  have  none  other,  I 
refer  the  same  to  your  Lordship's  good  consideration, 
whether  it  was  not  most  fitly  for  me  to  marry  them,  he 
being  mine  only  son  and  comfort  that  is  left  me.  And 
your  Lordship  can  bear  me  witness  how  desirous  I  have 
been  to  have  had  a  match  for  him  other  than  this.  And 
the  Queen's  Majesty,  much  to  my  comfort,  to  that  end 
gave  me  good  words  at  my  departure." 

There  were  other  letters  from  her  repeating  the  state- 
ments about  her  careful  avoidance  of  Chatsworth  and 
Sheflfield,  the  helpless  position  in  which  she  was  placed 
by  "  the  sudden  affection  "  of  her  son,  and  begging  for 
the  Queen's  compassion  "on  my  widowed  estate,  being 
aged  and  of  many  cares." 

She  reached  Court  on  December  12th,  and  was  ac- 
corded such  a  reception  that  La  Mothe  Fenelon  thought 
it  worth  while  to  include,  in  his  despatches  to  France, 
her  fears  and  apprehensions.  He  records  her  dread  of 
her  old  prison,  the  Tower,  and  her  hope  that  she  may 


AFTERMATH  153 

escape  at  least  that  indignity  through  the  influence  of 
good  friends.  She  went  meekly  to  her  house  at  Hack- 
ney, with  Charles  and  Elizabeth  Lennox,  who  had 
scarcely  learnt  the  meaning  of  the  word  honeymoon. 
There  the  three,  forbidden  to  leave  the  precincts  of  the 
house,  spent  a  joyless  Christmas,  while,  in  lieu  of  a 
royal  festival  greeting,  Christmas  Eve  brought  them 
Elizabeth's  orders  that  they  were  to  have  intercourse 
only  with  such  persons  as  were  named  by  the  Privy 
Council.  Immediately  after  Christmas  the  door  of  the 
Tower  gaped  and  swallowed  the  Lennox  dowager.  To 
the  Tower  also,  it  seems,  was  sent  her  confederate.  The 
comments  of  Bess  of  Shrewsbury  have  not  been  chron- 
icled. But  she  probably  remembered  keenly  enough  the 
days  when  as  "  Sentlow  "  she  had  the  sense  to  keep  out 
of  any  active  participation  in  the  marriage  of  Lady 
Catherine  Grey.  Her  thoughts  in  retrospect  could  not 
have  been  very  pleasant,  and  genuine  fears  for  the  fate 
of  her  young  and  easily-led  daughter  must  have  jostled 
fears  for  her  own  skin. 

As  for  Lady  Lennox,  her  sensations  were  still  more 
poignant.  "  Thrice  have  I  been  cast  into  prison,"  said 
she,  "  not  for  matters  of  treason,  but  for  love  matters. 
First,  when  Thomas  Howard,  son  to  Thomas  first  Duke 
of  Norfolk,  was  in  love  with  myself ;  then  for  the  love 
of  Henry  Darnley,  my  son,  to  Queen  Mary  of  Scotland ; 
and  lastly  for  the  love  of  Charles,  my  younger  son,  to 
Elizabeth  Cavendish." 

It  was  just  after  Christmas  that  Lord  Shrewsbury 
again  bestirred  himself  and  applied  to  Burghley,  though 
he  ostensibly  does  it  less  on  behalf  of  his  wife  than  of 
Lady  Lennox. 


154  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

"My  very  good  Lord, 

"Upon  my  Lady  Lennox's  earnest  request,  as  to 
your  Lordship  I  am  sure  shall  appear,  I  have  written  to 
my  Lords  of  the  Council  all  I  can  find  out  of  her  be- 
haviour towards  this  Queen  and  dealing  when  she  was 
in  these  north  parts  ;  and  if  some  disallowed  of  my 
writing  (as  I  look  they  will,  because  they  would  have 
it  thought  that  I  should  have  enough  to  do  to  answer 
for  myself)  let  such  .  .  }  reprove,  or  find  any  .  .  .* 
respect  to  her  Majesty  in  me  or  my  wife  is  sought  for, 
and  then  there  is  some  cause  to  reprehend  me,  and  for 
them  to  call  out  against  me  as  they  do.  I  take  that 
Lady  Lennox  be  a  subject  in  all  respects  worthy  the 
Queen's  Majesty's  favour,  and  for  the  duty  I  bear  to  her 
Majesty  I  am  bound,  methinks,  to  commend  her  so  as 
I  find  her  ;  yea,  and  to  intreat  you,  and  all  of  my  Lords 
of  the  Council  for  her,  to  save  her  from  blemish,  if  no 
offence  can  be  found  in  her  towards  her  Majesty.  I  do 
not  nor  can  find  the  marriage  of  that  Lady's  son  to  my 
wife's  daughter  can  any  way  be  taken  with  indifferent 
judgment,  be  any  offence  or  contemptuous  to  her 
Majesty  ;  and  then,  methinks,  that  benefit  any  subject 
may  by  law  claim  might  be  permitted  to  any  of  mine 
as  well.  But  I  must  be  plain  with  your  Lordship.  It 
is  not  the  marriage  matter  nor  the  hatred  some  bear  to 
my  Lady  Lennox,  my  wife,  or  to  me,  that  makes  this 
great  ado  and  occupies  heads  with  so  many  devices. 
It  is  a  greater  matter  ;  which  I  leave  to  conjecture, 
not  doubting  but  your  Lordship's  wisdom  hath  fore- 
seen it,  and  thereof  had  due  consideration,  as  always 
you  have  been  most  careful  for  it. 

^   Blank  in  the  original,  as  given  in  Lodge's  Illustrations  of  British 
History. 


AFTERMATH  155 

"  I  have  no  more  to  trouble  your  Lordship  withal, 
but  that  I  would  not  have  her  Majesty  think,  if  I  could 
see  any  cause  to  imagine  any  intent  of  liking  or  in- 
sinuation with  this  Queen  the  rather  to  grow  by  this 
marriage,  or  any  other  inconvenience  might  come 
thereby  to  her  Majesty,  that  I  could  or  would  bear 
with  it,  or  hide  it  from  her  Majesty,  for  that  Lady's 
sake,  or  for  my  wife,  or  any  other  cause  else  ;  for 
besides  the  faith  I  bear  her  Majesty,  with  a  singular 
love  I  look  not  by  any  means  but  by  her  Majesty  only 
to  be  made  better  than  I  am  ;  nor  by  any  change  to  hold 
that  I  have — so  take  my  leave  of  your  Lordship. 

"  Sheffield  Castle  (where  my  charge  is  safe),  the  27th 
of  December,  1574. 

"  Your  Lordship's  assured  friend  to  my  power, 

"G.  Shrewsbury." 

This  letter  is  dignified,  slightly  defiant — claiming 
common  justice  for  his  people,  as  *' any  subject"  may 
do — and  doggedly  loyal.  He  is  no  opportunist,  and 
for  any  improvement  in  his  fortunes  he  looks  to  Eliza- 
beth only.  He  has  acted  whole-heartedly  and  with  a 
single  mind.  He  has  tendered  to  the  Lords  of  the 
Council  all  possible  details  which  would  assist  in  clear- 
ing Lady  Lennox  from  imputations  in  regard  to  co- 
operation with  Mary  of  Scotland.  He  fully  recognises 
that  this  is  the  "greater  matter"  which  "occupies 
heads  with  so  many  devices  "  and  wherein  lies  the  crux 
of  the  affair.  He  knew  that  a  long  official  enquiry  was 
inevitable.  This  took  the  form  of  a  special  Court  under 
the  Earl  of  Huntingdon,  whom  Mary  of  Scots  and  the 
Earl  alike  detested.  The  choice  of  him  as  grand  in- 
quisitor must   have  been  the  more  galling  just  now. 


156  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

because  reports  were  rife  that  this  rash  marriage  had 
finally  decided  the  Queen  to  supersede  Lord  Shrews- 
bury as  incapable  and  unworthy  of  her  reliance.  Such 
rumours  were  always  a  part  of  her  policy.  She  knew 
perfectly  well  who  was  most  useful  to  her,  and  she  was 
not  going  to  relax  her  grip  upon  Shrewsbury,  his  en- 
durance, his  loyalty,  his  houses,  and  his  income. 

Lord  Huntingdon's  enquiry  went  forward,  and  both 
ladies  were  ultimately  acquitted  of  "  large  treasons." 
If  the  gaoler-soldier  Earl  did  not  give  his  wife  a  sound 
verbal  drubbing  for  endangering  the  peace  of  his  whole 
house  in  so  gratuitous  a  fashion  it  would  be  strange. 
From  the  very  first,  in  spite  of  his  assurances  to  the 
Queen,  he  must  have  scented  his  lady's  ambition  with 
regard  to  any  possible  semi-royal  offspring  of  the 
Ruflford  marriage.  The  matter  weighed  on  him  greatly 
in  after  life.  One  can  only  assume  that  his  Bess  at  this 
period  lost  her  sense  of  perspective,  and  that  in  one 
sense  her  noted  long-headedness  deserted  her.  The 
enquiry  over,  the  principal  offenders,  crushed  and 
humble  (Lady  Lennox  at  all  events  seemed  so),  retired 
to  their  homes.  It  is  mentioned  that  the  royal  order 
giving  Lady  Shrewsbury  her  freedom  included  permis- 
sion for  her  to  repair  to  the  baths  at  Buxton,  a  change 
of  air  which  must  have  been  extremely  salutary  after 
the  poor  ventilation  of  the  Tower  of  London,  even 
under  the  less  rigorous  conditions  accorded  to  prisoners 
of  quality. 

By  the  middle  of  May,  Lady  Lennox  was  once  more 
at  her  Hackney  house.  A  visit  to  Buxton  waters  for 
her  was  out  of  the  question,  both  as  regards  policy  and 
expense.  At  Hackney  she  rested,  very  much  out  of  the 
world  and  very  poor,  with  her  gentle  little  daughter- 


AFTERMATH  157 

in-law  and  son,  who  spent  the  first  year  of  their  married 
life  in  a  tolerably  morose  atmosphere  of  suspicion  and 
unpopularity.  They  had,  of  course,  a  few  visitors. 
Gilbert  Talbot,  who  seems  always  to  have  been  the 
spokesman  of  the  family,  and  to  have  kept  in  touch 
with  its  various  members,  records  the  impression  made 
by  the  Lennoxes  on  a  certain  "  Mr.  Tyndall,"  who 
subsequently  carried  letters  down  to  Derbyshire  to  the 
mother  of  Elizabeth  Lennox  : — 

"  This  bearer,  Mr.  Tyndall,  was  at  Hackney,  where 
he  found  them  there  well.  And  I  trust  very  shortly  that 
the  dregs  of  all  misconstruction  will  be  wiped  away,  that 
their  abode  there  after  this  sort  will  be  altered." 

This  means  that  the  inmates  were  socially  taboo  and 
were  still  kept  *'  within  bounds." 

In  July  of  the  same  year  there  is  a  most  pathetic 
little  letter  from  the  girl-wife  Elizabeth,  by  this  time 
in  a  fair  way  to  produce  an  heir  for  the  perishing  house 
of  Lennox.  She  makes  no  allusion  to  the  fact  in  this 
piteous  and  formal  little  note  to  the  mother  who  used 
her  for  family  purposes  much  in  the  same  way  as  she 
used  a  stone  for  the  building  of  her  other  "  workes." 
The  cause  of  the  displeasure  which  the  writer  seeks 
to  disarm  is  inexplainable.  Elizabeth  Cavendish  was 
exactly  the  opposite  in  character  to  her  mother,  or  her 
mother's  eldest  daughter  Mary,  wife  of  Gilbert  Talbot. 
The  latter — of  whom  more  presently — was  a  hot- 
tempered,  vindictive,  energetic  creature,  with  plenty 
of  intelligence.  Elizabeth  Cavendish  was  gentle,  un- 
assuming, tender-hearted.  She  would  certainly  take 
the  line  of  least  resistance.     This  is  the  letter: — ^ 

1  Hunter's  Hallatnshire. 


158  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

"  My  humble  duty  remembered :  beseeching  your 
L.  of  your  daily  blessings  :  presuming  of  your  mother- 
like affection  towards  me  your  child  that  trust  I  have 
not  so  evilly  deserved  as  your  La.  hath  made  show, 
by  your  letters  to  others,  which  maketh  me  doubtful 
that  your  La.  hath  been  informed  some  great  untruth 
of  me  or  else  I  had  well  hoped  that  for  some  small 
trifle  I  should  not  have  continued  in  your  displeasure 
so  long  a  time.  And  I  might  be  so  bold  as  to  crave 
at  your  La.  hands  that  it  would  please  you  to  extreme^ 
such  false  bruits  as  your  La.  hath  heard  reported  of 
me  as  lightly  as  you  have  done  when  othere  were  in 
the  like  case,  1  should  think  myself  much  the  more 
bound  to  your  La.  I  beseech  you  make  my  hearty  com- 
mendations to  my  aunt.    I  take  my  leave  in  humble  wise. 

"Hackney,  25th  of  July. 

"  Your  La.  humble  and  Obedient  daughter, 

"  E.  Lenox. 

"To  the  right  honourable  the  Countess 

of  Shrewsbury  my  very  good  mother." 

At  all  events,  the  mother's  displeasure  must  have 
melted  upon  the  birth  of  her  Lennox  grandchild. 
Unhappily  for  the  ambitious  Bess,  this  was  not  a  son 
but  a  girl,  christened  Arabella,  who  was  afterwards  to 
play  her  part  in  just  such  a  tragi-comedy  of  ambition. 
Court  pageant,  and  luckless  marriage  as  befell  her  grand- 
mother Margaret  Lennox,  and  the  Ladies  Catherine  and 
Mary  Grey.  Had  the  child  been  a  boy  Queen  Eliza- 
beth might  have  been  less  inclined  to  clemency.  Her  sex, 
her  helplessness,  the  poverty  of  her  father's  house,  and 
the  dangerous  and  delicate  condition  of  his  health  were 

^   Explain  or  set  aside. 


AFTERMATH  159 

all  inducements  to  the  Queen's  compassion,  and  also 
rendered  the  babe  a  useful  item  in  the  plans  of  the 
"  Mistress  Builder."  Her  birth,  of  course,  brought 
the  Shrewsbury's  into  an  oddly  contradictory  relation- 
ship towards  Mary  of  Scotland,  who  always  showed  the 
tenderest  interest  in  the  child.  It  must  also  have 
assisted  to  complete  the  better  understanding  between 
Darnley's  mother  and  widow.  Already  they  had  drawn 
closer  in  a  mutual  dread  lest,  since  the  assassination 
of  the  old  Earl  of  Lennox,  the  evil  practices  of  the 
present  Regent,  Lord  Morton,  should  injure  the  young 
James  of  Scotland.  Lady  Lennox's  letter  to  Mary 
from  Hackney,  dated  November  loth,  1575,  makes 
their  reconciliation  very  clear  : — 

"  It  may  please  your  Majesty,  I  have  received  your 
letters  and  mind  both  by  your  letters  and  otherwise, 
much  to  my  comfort  specially  perceiving  what  jealous 
natural  care  your  Majesty  hath  of  our  sweet  and  peer- 
less jewel  in  Scotland.  I  have  been  as  fearful  and  as 
careful  as  your  Majesty  of  him,  so  that  the  wicked 
governor  should  not  have  power  to  do  harm  to  his 
person,  whom  God  preserve  from  his  enemies.  I 
beseech  your  Majesty  fear  not,  but  trust  in  God 
all  shall  be  well.  The  treachery  of  your  traitors  is 
evidently  no  better  than  before.  I  shall  always  play 
my  part  to  your  Majesty's  content  so  as  may  tend  to 
both  our  comforts.  And  now  I  must  yield  your 
Majesty  my  most  humble  thanks  for  your  good  re- 
membrance and  bounty  to  our  little  daughter,  her  who 
some  day  may  serve  your  highness.  Almighty  God 
grant  unto  your  Majesty  a  long  and  happy  life. 
"  Your  Majesty's  most  humble  and 

loving  mother  and  aunt, 

"  Margaret  Lennox." 


i6o  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

The  "  little  daughter  "  is  surely  the  young  Elizabeth 
Lennox  (nie  Cavendish),  who  adds  this  postscript  to  the 
letter  : — 

"  I  most  humbly  thank  your  Majesty  that  it  pleased 
you  to  remember  me,  your  poor  servant,  both  with 
a  token  and  in  my  La.  Gr.'s  letter,^  which  is  not  little 
to  my  comfort.  I  can  but  wish  and  pray  God  for  your 
Majesty's  long  and  happy  estate.  ...  I  may  do  your 
Majesty  better  service,  which  I  think  long  to  do,  and 
shall  always  be  as  ready  thereto  as  any  servant  your 
Majesty  hath,  according  as  by  duty  I  am  bound.  I 
beseech  your  highness  to  pardon  these  rude  lines,  and 
accept  the  good  heart  of  the  writer,  who  loves  and 
honours  your  Majesty  unfeignedly. 

"  Your   Majesty's    most   humble   and    lowly  servant 

through  life,  « rr    t  »» 

°  *  "  E.  Lennox. 

Now  the  above  convincing  and  pathetic  letter  of  the 
dowager  Lady  Lennox,  it  seems,  never  reached  Mary  ; 
but  fortunately  for  Mary's  reputation  and  as  proof  of 
the  accord  between  her  and  her  mother-in-law  with 
regard  to  the  marriage  and  other  matters,  has  been 
preserved. 

Two  years  later,  1577,  Queen  and  mother-in-law 
were  toiling  to  get  the  Scottish  prince  away  from  the 
"  wicked  governor,"  and  Mary  says  of  Lady  Lennox, 
"  I  praise  God  that  she  becomes  daily  more  sensible 
of  the  faithlessness  and  evil  intentions  of  those  whom 
she  previously  assisted  with  her  name  against  me." 

*  Lady  Grace's  letter. 


CHAPTER   XI 


VARIOUS    OCCURRENCES 


**  I  ""HE  Shrewsbury  pair  started  the  year  1575  in 
different  fashion.  She  was  in  the  Tower  and  not 
at  all  in  a  happy  mood.  He  also  in  a  fortress — Sheffield 
— but  as  warder  and  not  prisoner,  and  more  unhappy, 
because  in  the  larger  things  he  was  always  the  more 
conscientious,  yet  bestirred  himself  to  send  a  diplomatic 
present  of  rich  gold  plate  to  Lord  Burghley,  and  was  him- 
self in  the  usual  manner  the  recipient  of  bounties  from 
his  friends  and  tenants.  Burghley  acknowledges  the 
present  and  his  indebtedness  in  highly  satisfactory  terms 
to  the  master  of  Sheffield  Castle  : — 

"And  now,  my  Lord,  I  find  such  continuance  or 
rather  increase,  of  your  good  will  to  me,  by  your  costly 
gift  of  plate  this  new  year,  as  you  may  account  me 
greatly  in  your  debt  and  yet  ready  with  my  heart  and 
service  to  acquit  you.  I  humbly  therefore  pray  your 
Lordship  to  make  proof  of  my  good  will  where  my 
power  may  answer  the  same,  and  I  trust  you  shall  find 
the  best  disposed  debtor  that  your  Lordship  hath  to 
acquit  my  debt." 

Lodge  prints  immediately  before  this  letter  from  the 
Lord  Treasurer  a  fragment  (also  from  the  Talbot  manu- 
scripts)  in   which  Lord    Shrewsbury  lays   his  financial 
M  161 


1 62  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

case  emphatically  before  the  Queen,  and  there  is  no 
doubt  that  his  appeal  and  the  present  of  gold  plate 
to  her  Lord  Treasurer  were  incidents  closely  related  : — 

"  Your  Majesty  was  minded  to  allow  me  for  the 
keeping  of  this  Lady  but  ^^30  a  week.  When  I  received 
her  into  my  charge  at  your  Majesty's  hands,  I  under- 
stood very  well  it  was  a  most  dangerous  service,  and 
thought  overhard  to  perform,  without  some  great  mis- 
chief to  himself  at  least,  and  as  it  seemed  most  hard  and 
fearful  to  others  and  every  man  shrunk  from  it,  so 
much  the  gladder  was  I  to  take  it  upon  me,  thereby  to 
make  appear  to  your  Majesty  my  zealous  mind  to  serve 
you  in  place  of  greatest  peril  ;  and  I  thought  it  was  the 
best  proof  your  Majesty  could  make  of  me.  I  demanded 
not  great  allowance,  nor  did  stick  for  anything  as  all 
men  used  to  do.  My  Lords  of  your  Council,  upon 
good  deliberation,  assigned  by  your  Majesty's  command- 
ment, a  portion  of  -£^1  every  week  (less  by  the  half 
than  your  Majesty  paid  before  she  came  to  me)  which 
I  took,  and  would  not  in  that  doubtful  time  have 
refused  your  Majesty's  service  of  trust  so  committed  to 
me,  if  my  lands  and  life  had  lain  thereon  ;  and  how 
I  have  passed  my  service,  and  accomplished  your  trust 
committed  to  me,  with  quiet,  surety " 

That  sudden  break  in  the  appeal,  whatever  its  cause, 
has  its  own  dramatic  force. 

As  regards  Court  matters,  a  long  letter  from  Francis 
Talbot,  the  eldest  son,  who  apparently  wrote  so  rarely, 
belongs  to  the  beginning  of  this  year.  It  gives  a  picture 
of  Queen  Elizabeth  in  a  mood  of  anxiety,  depression, 
and  perplexity  in  regard  to  foreign  politics,  especially 
touching  the  all-important  decision  as  to  whether  or  not 


VARIOUS   OCCURRENCES  163 

she  should  accept  the  offer  of  the  suzerainty  of  the 
Netherland  States  : — 

"  Her  Majesty  is  troubled  with  these  causes  which 
maketh  her  very  melancholy  ;  and  seemeth  greatly  to  be 
out  of  quiet.  What  shall  be  done  in  these  matters  as 
yet  is  unknown,  but  here  are  ambassadors  of  all  sides 
who  labour  greatly  one  against  another." 

To  this  year  also  belongs  a  kindly  letter — this  time 
on  purely  family  matters — from  the  wife  of  Francis 
Talbot,  Lady  Ann,  nee  Herbert,  daughter  of  William, 
Earl  Pembroke,  to  the  Countess  of  Shrewsbury.  In 
this  the  forthcoming  "  prograce  "  is  mentioned,  and  the 
visit  of  Queen  Elizabeth  to  the  then  Countess  of  Pem- 
broke, her  sister-in-law,  nee  Catherine  Talbot,  and 
married  to  Henry,  Earl  Pembroke  : — 

"Good  Madame,  I  am  to  crave  pardon  for  not  writing 
to  my  Lord's  man  Harry  Grace.  The  cause  I  willed 
him  to  declare  to  your  La.  which  was  the  extremity  that 
my  sister  of  Pembroke  was  in  at  that  time  ;  which  hath 
continued  till  Thursday  last.  Since  that  day  she  hath 
been  out  of  her  swooning,  but  not  able  to  stand  or 
go.  Her  greatest  grief  is  now  want  of  sleep,  and  not 
able  to  away  with  the  sight  of  meat ;  but  considering  her 
estate  before  we  think  ourselves  happy  of  this  change, 
hoping  that  better  will  follow  shortly.  The  Queen 
Majesty  hath  been  here  with  her  twice  ;  very  late  both 
times.  The  last  time  it  was  ten  of  the  clock  at  night  ere 
her  Majesty  went  hence,  being  so  great  a  mist  as  there 
were  divers  of  the  barges  and  boats  that  waited  for 
her  lost  their  ways,  and  landed  in  wrong  places,  but 
thanks  be  to  God  her  Majesty  came  well  home  without 


1 64  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

cold  or  fear.  For  the  holding  of  the  progress  I  am  sure 
your  La.  heareth  ;  for  my  part  I  can  write  no  certainty, 
but  as  I  am  in  all  other  matters,  as  I  have  always 
professed  and  as  duty  doth  bind  me,  ready  at  your  La. 
command  ;  and  in  anything  I  may  show  it  either  at  this 
time  or  when  occasion  serveth,  if  I  be  not  as  willing 
thereto  as  any  child  of  your  own,  then  let  me  be 
condemned  according  to  my  deserts ;  otherwise  I  humbly 
crave  your  La.  good  opinion  of  me  not  to  decrease, 
remembering  your  La.  commandment  heretofore,  to 
write  to  you  as  often  as  I  could,  which  now  in  this 
place  I  shall  have  better  means  than  I  have  had  in  the 
country,  and  thereupon  presuming  to  lengthen  my 
letter  upon  any  occasion,  although  I  count  this  of  my 
sister  very  evil  news,  yet  considering  her  recovery, 
I  hope  my  long  scribbling  will  the  less  trouble  your  La. 
And  so  with  my  most  humble  duty  of  my  Lord  and 
your  La.  I  humbly  take  my  leave.  From  Baynards 
Castle  the  8th  of  May. 

"  Your  La.  assured  loving  daughter  to  command, 

"Anne  Talbot. 

"  My  sister  of  Pembroke  hath  willed  to  remember 
her  humble  duty  to  my  Lord  and  you,  with  desire 
of  his  daily  blessing.  As  soon  as  she  is  able  she  will  do 
it  herself. 

"  To  the  right  honourable  and  my  assured  good  Lady 
and  mother,  the  Countess  of  Shrewsbury." 

That  "  my  sister  Pembroke "  recovered  from  her 
swoonings  and  her  convalescence  is  stated  at  the  close 
of  a  long  letter  from  Gilbert  Talbot,  in  February,  to 
both  his  parents. 

During  the  whole  of  the  spring  the  Earl's  corre- 


VARIOUS   OCCURRENCES  165 

spondence  was  large.  Sir  Francis  Walsingham  and 
others  kept  him  informed  of  all  State  events  and 
possibilities  which  could  affect  politics.  In  a  paper 
which  the  Earl  endorses  "  Occurrences,  from  Mr. 
Secretary  Walsingham "  is  contained  the  news  of  the 
disappearance  from  the  French  Court  of  Henry  of 
Navarre,  the  overtures  made  to  him  by  the  French 
King,  the  gradual  increase  of  his  adherents  among  the 
Protestants,  the  multifarious  schemes  of  the  Duke  of 
Guise,  and  all  the  details  which  made  for  civil  war. 
The  belief  in  magic  seems  to  have  had  sufficient  hold 
upon  a  statesman  like  Walsingham  to  induce  him  to 
include  a  note  such  as  this  : — 

"There  is  secret  report,  and  that  very  constantly 
affirmed  by  men  of  credit,  that  a  day  or  two  before 
the  King  of  Navarre  departed,  it  happened  the  Duke 
of  Guise  and  him  to  play  at  dice,  upon  a  very  smooth 
board,  in  the  King's  cabinet ;  and  that,  after  they  had 
done,  there  appeared  suddenly  upon  the  board  certain 
great  and  round  drops  of  blood  that  astonished  them 
marvellously,  finding  no  cause  in  the  blood  of  the 
world,  but,  as  it  were,  a  very  prodigy." 

Another  letter  of  this  year  is  very  interesting,  as 
it  shows  the  indefatigable  Lady  Shrewsbury  once  more 
at  her  match-making,  and  once  again  seeking  to  ally 
her  family  with  one  which  could  most  assist  it  at  Court 
— the  family  of  Lord  Burghley.  Lord  Shrewsbury's 
letter  making  the  proposal  as  suggested  by  his  wife 
is  not  forthcoming,  but  Lord  Burghley's  reply  is  full 
and  detailed,  and  breathes  caution  in  every  word. 
His  excuses  for  declining  the  offer  are  quite  reason- 
able.    At  the  same  time  he  must  have  had  sufficient 


1 66  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

insight  into  her  Ladyship's  masterful  character  to 
strengthen  his  refusal.  He  accentuates  his  fear  of  the 
Queen's  distrust  by  instancing  the  absurd  reports 
circulated  about  him  when  he  merely  went  to  Buxton 
to  drink  the  waters,  and  he  concludes  with  a  quaintly 
sententious  condemnation  of  "  human  learning "  in 
wishing  well  to  the  boy  whom  he  did  not  desire  for 
his  son-in-law. 

"  My  very  good  Lord, — My  most  hearty  and  due 
commendations  done,  I  cannot  sufficiently  express  in 
words  the  inward  hearty  affection  that  I  conceive  by 
your  Lordship's  friendly  offer  of  the  marriage  of 
your  younger  son  ;  and  that  in  such  a  friendly  sort, 
by  your  own  letter,  and  as  your  Lordship  writes,  the 
same  proceeding  of  yourself.  Now,  my  Lord,  as  I 
think  myself  much  beholden  to  you  for  this  your 
Lordship's  kindness,  and  manifest  argument  of  a  faithful 
goodwill,  so  must  I  pray  your  Lordship  to  accept  mine 
answer,  with  assured  opinion  of  my  continuance  in  the 
same  towards  your  Lordship.  There  are  specially 
two  causes  why  I  do  not  in  plain  terms  consent  by 
way  of  conclusion  hereto ;  the  one,  for  that  my  daughter 
is  but  young  in  years  ;  and  upon  some  reasonable 
respects,  I  have  determined  (notwithstanding  I  have 
been  very  honourably  offered  matches)  not  to  treat 
of  marrying  her,  if  I  may  live  so  long,  until  she 
be  above  fifteen  or  sixteen,  and  if  I  were  of  more 
likelihood  myself  to  live  longer  than  1  look  to  do, 
she  should  not,  with  my  liking,  be  married  before 
she  were  near  eighteen  or  twenty.  The  second  cause 
why  1  differ  to  yield  to  conclusion  with  your  Lordship 
is  grounded  upon   such  a  consideration  as,   if  it  were 


VARIOUS   OCCURRENCES  167 

not  truly  to  satisfy  your  Lordship,  and  to  avoid  a 
just  offence  which  your  Lordship  might  conceive  of 
my  forbearing,  I  would  not  by  writing  or  message 
utter,  but  only  by  speech  to  your  Lordship's  self. 
My  Lord,  it  is  over  true  and  over  much  against 
reason  that  upon  my  being  at  Buxton  last,  advantage 
was  sought  by  some  that  loved  me  not  to  confirm 
in  her  Majesty  a  former  conceit  which  had  been 
laboured  to  put  into  her  head,  that  1  was  of  late 
become  friendly  to  the  Queen  of  Scots,  and  that  I 
had  no  disposition  to  encounter  her  practices  ;  and 
now  at  my  being  at  Buxton,  her  Majesty  did  directly 
conceive  that  my  being  there  was,  by  means  of  your 
Lordship  and  my  Lady,  to  enter  into  intelligence 
with  the  Queen  of  Scots  ;  and  hereof  at  my  return 
to  her  Majesty's  presence  I  had  very  sharp  reproofs 
for  my  going  to  Buxton  with  plain  charging  of  me 
for  favouring  the  Queen  of  Scots  ;  and  that  in  so 
earnest  a  sort  I  never  looked  for,  knowing  my  integrity 
to  her  Majesty  ;  but  especially  knowing  how  con- 
trariously  the  Queen  of  Scots  conceived  of  me  for 
many  things  past  to  the  offence  of  the  Queen  of  Scots. 
And  yet,  true  it  is,  I  never  indeed  gave  just  cause  by 
any  private  affection  of  my  own,  or  for  myself,  to 
offend  the  Queen  of  Scots  ;  but  whatsoever  I  did 
was  for  the  services  of  mine  own  sovereign  Lady 
and  Queen,  which  if  it  were  yet  again  to  be  done 
I  would  do.  And  though  I  know  myself  subject  to 
contrary  workings  of  displeasure  yet  will  I  not,  for 
remedy  of  any  of  them  both,  decline  from  the  duty 
I  owe  to  God  and  my  sovereign  Queen  ;  for  I  know 
and  do  understand,  that  I  am  in  this  contrary  sort 
maliciously  depraved,   and  yet  in   secret  sort ;  on  the 


1 68  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

one  part,  and  that  of  long  time,  that  I  am  the  most 
dangerous  enemy  and  evil  wilier  to  the  Queen  of 
Scots  ;  on  the  other  side  that  I  am  also  a  secret  well 
wilier  to  her  and  her  title,  and  that  I  have  made  my 
party  good  with  her.  Now,  my  Lord,  no  man  can 
make  both  these  true  together  ;  but  it  sufficeth  such 
as  like  not  me  in  doing  my  duty  to  deprave  me,  and 
yet  in  such  sort  is  done  in  darkness,  as  I  cannot  get 
opportunity  to  convince  them  in  the  light.  In  all 
these  crossings,  my  good  Lord,  I  appeal  to  God  who 
knoweth,  yea  (1  thank  him  infinitely),  who  directeth 
my  thoughts  to  intend  principally  the  service  and 
honour  of  God,  and  jointly  with  it  the  surety  and 
greatness  of  my  sovereign  Lady  the  Queen's  Majesty  ; 
and  for  any  other  respect  but  it  may  tend  to  those 
two,  I  appeal  to  God  to  punish  me  if  I  have  any. 
As  for  the  Queen  of  Scots,  truly  I  have  no  spot  of 
evil  meaning  to  her.  Neither  do  I  mean  to  deal  with 
any  titles  to  the  Crown.  If  she  shall  intend  any  evil 
to  the  Queen's  Majesty,  my  sovereign,  for  her  sake 
I  must  and  will  mean  to  impeach  her ;  and  therein 
I  may  be  her  unfriend,  or  worse. 

"Well  now,  my  good  Lord,  your  Lordship  seeth  I 
have  made  a  long  digression  from  my  answer,  but 
I  trust  your  Lordship  can  consider  what  moveth  me 
thus  to  digress.  Surely  it  behoveth  me  not  only  to 
live  uprightly,  but  to  avoid  all  probable  arguments  that 
may  be  gathered  to  render  me  suspected  to  her  Majesty 
whom  I  serve  with  all  dutifulness  and  sincerity  ;  and 
therefore  I  gather  this,  that  if  it  were  understood  that 
there  were  a  communication  or  a  purpose  of  marriage 
between  your  Lordship's  son  and  my  daughter  1  am 
sure  there  would   be  an  advantage  sought  to  increase 


VARIOUS  OCCURRENCES  169 

these  former  suspicions.  Considering  the  young  years 
of  our  two  children  ...  if  the  matter  were  fully 
agreed  betwixt  us,  the  parents,  the  marriage  could  not 
take  effect,  I  think  it  best  to  refer  the  motion  in  silence, 
and  yet  so  to  order  it  with  ourselves  that,  when  time 
shall  hereafter  be  more  convenient,  we  may  (and  then 
also  with  less  cause  of  vain  suspicion)  renew  it.  And 
in  the  meantime  I  must  confess  myself  much  bounden 
to  your  Lordship  .  .  .  wishing  your  Lordship's  son  all 
the  good  education  may  be  meet  to  teach  him  to  fear 
God,  love  your  Lordship,  his  natural  father,  and  to 
know  his  friends  ;  without  any  curiosity  of  human 
learning,  which,  without  the  fear  of  God,  I  see  docth 
great  hurt  to  all  youth  in  this  time  and  age.  My  Lord, 
I  pray  you  bear  with  me  scribbling,  which  I  think  your 
Lordship  shall  hardly  read,  and  yet  I  would  not  use  my 
man's  hand  in  such  a  matter  as  this. 

"From  Hampton  Court,  24th  December,  1575. 

*'  Your  Lordship's  most  assured  commandment, 

"W.    BURGHLEY." 

The  boy  in  question  was  Edward  Talbot,  the  Earl's 
fourth  son.  His  matrimonial  chances  did  not  suffer  by 
this  just  refusal,  for  in  after  years  he  married  one  of  the 
twin  heiresses  of  Lord  Ogle  of  Northumberland,  and 
eventually,  after  the  death  of  his  two  elder  brothers, 
succeeded  to  his  father's  earldom. 

A  single  bill  of  items  of  the  Earl's  expenditure 
in  the  year  1575  amounting  to  ;^300  is  of  a  nature 
which  shows  how  many  and  extensive  were  the  pur- 
chases justifying  his  constant  appeals  to  the  Treasury. 
All  these  items  he  had  to  import  from  France  by  special 
messenger.  Hogshead  after  hogshead  of  French  wine 
was  required  for  Mary's   use.     Her  household   drank 


lyo  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

it  in  preference  to  the  heavier  English  brew  of  ale. 
Moreover,  she  was  accustomed  to  use  it  for  her  bath, 
especially  when  indisposed.  Buckram  and  canvas, 
damask  and  sheeting,  vinegar  and  live  quails  ("  with 
cages  for  the  said  quails  "),  paper  and  hempseed,  "  com- 
fitures  and  other  sugar-works,"  and  even  "  fourteen 
pounds  of  sleyed  silk  for  my  Lady,  being  of  all  colours," 
go  to  this  long  bill  of  goods  from  Rouen. 

My  Lady  meanwhile  was  properly  reinstated  in  the 
English  Queen's  confidence.  It  would  please  Bess 
Shrewsbury  well  to  know  that  this  letter  from  the  Earl 
of  Leicester,  written  early  in  1576  to  her  husband,  has 
come  down  to  posterity: — 

"My  Lord, — For  that  this  bearer  is  so  well  known  and 
trusted  of  you  I  will  leave  to  trouble  you  with  any  long 
letters,  and  do  commit  the  more  to  his  report,  for  that 
he  is  well  able  to  satisfy  your  Lordship  fully  of  all 
things  here.  And,  touching  one  part  of  your  letter  sent 
lately  to  me,  about  the  access  of  my  Lady,  your  wife,  to 
the  Queen  there,  I  find  the  Queen's  Majesty  well  pleased 
that  she  may  repair  at  all  times,  and  not  forbear  the 
company  of  that  Queen,  having  not  only  very  good 
opinion  of  my  Lady's  wisdom  and  discretion,  but  thinks 
how  convenient  it  is  for  that  Queen  to  be  accompanied 
and  pass  the  time  rather  with  my  Lady  than  meaner 
persons.  I  doubt  not  but  your  Lordship  shall  hear  in 
like  sort  also  from  her  Majesty  touching  the  same,  and 
yet  I  may  well  signify  thus  much,  as  from  herself,  to 
your  Lordship.  The  rest  I  commend  to  this  bearer, 
and  your  Lordship,  with  my  good  Lady,  to  the  Almighty. 
In  haste,  this  first  of  May. 

"Your  Lordship's  assured  kinsman, 

"R.  Leicester." 


VARIOUS   OCCURRENCES  171 

Soon  after,  in  June,  Lord  Shrewsbury,  at  Buxton 
with  his  "  charge,"  asks  that  he  may  remove  her,  not  to 
Tutbury  as  suggested,  but  back  to  Sheffield  Lodge. 
There  was  a  "  bruit "  that  Lord  Leicester  was  going  to 
Buxton  for  the  waters,  and  it  was  necessary,  seeing  that 
his  going  would  probably  attract  others  in  the  world  of 
fashion,  not  to  allow  Mary  to  linger  at  the  baths.  A 
letter  from  Gilbert  Talbot,  in  July,  1576,  full  of  the 
usual  delightful  chit-chat  about  Queen  and  Court,  men- 
tions the  Buxton  expedition  in  connection  with  the 
magnificent  Leicester  : — 

"  My  duty  most  humbly  remembered,  right  honour- 
able my  singular  good  Lord  and  father.  Since  my 
coming  hither  to  the  Court  there  hath  been  sundry 
determinations  of  her  Majesty's  progress  this  summer. 
Yesterday  it  was  set  down  that  she  would  go  to  Graf- 
ton ^  and  Northampton,  Leicester,  and  to  Ashby,  my 
Lord  Huntingdon's  house,  and  there  to  have  remained 
twenty-one  days,  to  the  end  the  water  of  Buxton  might 
have  been  daily  brought  thither  for  my  Lord  of 
Leicester,  or  any  other,  to  have  used  ;  but  late  yester- 
night this  purpose  altered,  and  now  at  this  present  her 
Majesty  thinketh  to  go  no  further  than  Grafton  ;  how- 
beit  there  is  no  certainty,  for  these  two  or  three 
days  it  hath  changed  every  five  hours.  The  physicians 
have  fully  resolved  that  wheresoever  my  Lord  Leicester 
be  he  must  drink  and  use  Buxton  water  twenty  days 
together.  My  Lady  Essex  and  my  Lady  Sussex  will  be 
shortly  at  Buxton,  and  my  Lady  Norris  shortly  after  ; 
I  cannot  learn  of  any  others  that  come  from  hence. 

"  This  day  Mr.  Secretary  Walsingham  has  gotten  the 

^  The  Queen  had  a  small  palace  here,  in  Northamptonshire. 


172  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

Bill  signed  for  the  S.  Q.'s  diet,  and  to-morrow  early  it 
shall  be  sent  to  the  Exchequer,  that  as  soon  as  possible 
we  may  receive  the  money,  which  shall  be  disposed 
according  to  your  Lordship's  commandment  in  payment 
of  all  your  debts  here. 

"  I  have  bespoken  two  pair  of  little  flagons,  for  there 
are  none  ready  made,  and  I  fear  they  will  not  be 
finished  before  my  departure  hence.  I  have  seen  many 
fair  hangings,  and  your  Lordship  may  have  all  prices, 
either  two  shillings  a  stick  or  seven  groats,  three,  four, 
five,  or  six  shillings  the  stick,  even  as  your  Lordship 
will  bestow  ;  but  there  is  of  five  shillings  the  stick  that 
is  very  fair.  But  unless  your  Lordship  send  up  a 
measure  of  what  depth  and  breadth  you  would  have 
them,  surely  they  will  not  be  to  your  Lordship's  liking  ; 
for  the  most  of  them  are  very  shallow,  and  I  have  seen 
none  that  I  think  deep  enough  for  a  guest  chamber,  but 
for  lodgings. 

"  I  have  had  some  talk  with  my  Lord  of  Leicester 
since  my  coming,  whom  I  find  most  assuredly  well 
aflfected  towards  your  Lordship  and  yours.  I  never 
knew  man  in  my  life  more  joyful  for  their  friend  than 
he  at  my  Lady's  noble  and  wise  government  of  herself 
at  her  late  being  here  ;  saying  that  he  heartily  thanked 
God  of  so  good  a  friend  and  kinsman  of  your  Lordship, 
and  that  you  are  matched  with  so  noble  and  good  a 
wife.  I  saw  the  Queen's  Majesty  yesternight  in  the 
garden  ;  but  for  that  she  was  talking  with  my  Lord 
Hunsden,  she  spake  nothing  to  me,  but  looked  very 
earnestly  on  me.  1  hear  her  Majesty  conceiveth  some- 
what better  of  me    than    heretofore  ;*    and    my  Lord 

^  Gilbert  Talbot  had  apjiarently  fallen  out  of  favour.  The  matter  is, 
however,  so  unimportant  that  no  explanation  remains  of  it. 


VARIOUS   OCCURRENCES  173 

of  Leicester  doubteth   not   in   time   to   bring  all  well 
again. 

"  I  can  learn  no  certain  news  worthy  to  write  to  your 
Lordship's  Secretary.  William  Winter  hath  not  yet 
sent  my  resolute  answer  from  the  Flushingers  and  Prince 
of  Orange  touching  our  merchants'  ships  and  goods  ; 
for  other  matters  of  France.  I  know  Mr.  Secretary 
Walsingham's  wonted  manner  is  to  send  your  Lord- 
ship's occurrents  that  come  thence.  Mr.  Secretary  Smith 
lieth  still  in  hard  case  at  his  house  in  Essex,  and,  as  I 
hear,  this  day  or  to-morrow  setteth  towards  the  baths 
in  Somersetshire  ;  the  use  of  his  tongue  is  clean  taken 
from  him  that  he  cannot  be  understood,  such  is  the 
continuance  of  the  rheum  that  distilleth  from  his  head 
downwards. 

"Thus,  not  knowing  wherewith  else  to  trouble  your 
Lordship,  I  most  humbly  beseech  your  blessing,  with 
my  wonted  prayer  for  your  Lordship's  long  continuance 
in  all  honour,  and  most  perfect  health. 

"  From  the  Court  this  Friday  at  night,  the  6th  of 
July,  1576. 

"  Your  Lordship's  most  humble  and 
obedient  loving  son, 

"Gilbert  Talbot." 

Otherwise  the  family  affairs  of  the  Shrewsburys  were 
engrossing  enough.  The  Lennox  baby,  born  at  Chats- 
worth,  had,  as  stated,  altered  their  domestic  and  social 
world  considerably.  My  Lady  was  now  the  grand- 
mother of  a  possible  queen,  a  creature  having  equal 
right  on  her  father's  side  to  the  crowns  of  Scotland  and 
England.  It  was  very  important  that  while  Lady 
Shrewsbury    still    kept    up    towards    the   child's   aunt, 


174  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

Mary,  a  show  of  friendliness,  she  should  curry  favour 
on  every  occasion  with  the  English  Queen,  who  sup- 
ported the  rule  of  young  James  of  Scotland.  It 
was  a  nice  and  delicate  game  to  play,  and  must  have 
pleased  her  well.  It  was  not  likely  now  that  Mary 
would  ever  come  into  power.  Still,  strange  things 
happened.  If  Elizabeth  died  suddenly  Mary  might 
have  her  day  at  last,  and  every  act  of  the  Shrewsburys 
towards  her  in  her  captivity  would  be  weighed  in  her 
judgment  and  awards  as  soon  as  she  was'  in  the  seat  of 
government.  The  two  women  had  hitherto  grown 
very  friendly.  All  manner  of  confidences  must  have 
passed  between  them,  and  my  Lady's  alert  ears  had 
supplied  her  quick  tongue  with  many  a  bit  of  scandal 
which  she  could  retail  for  the  amusement  of  the  royal 
"guest." 

From  this  period,  however,  she  would  practise  greater 
caution.  She  had  recently  steered  clear  of  great  danger, 
and  was  toiling  hard  for  the  Queen's  smiles.  It  was 
well  known  that  those  who  favoured  and  feted  Lord 
Leicester  f^ted  the  Queen  in  proxy.  The  visit  of 
Leicester  to  Buxton  in  1576  presented  itself  therefore 
as  a  great  social  chance. 


CHAPTER   XII 


MY    LORD    LEICESTER  S    CURE 


"|V/['Y  Lord  of  Leicester  was  to  have  his  cure.  The 
physicians  insisted  upon  it.  It  is  chronicled  in 
Gilbert  Talbot's  letter  with  all  the  importance  which 
would  attend  the  bulletins  of  the  health  of  a  king.  The 
Queen  never  resented  a  fuss  of  this  kind  made  over  her 
pampered  darling.  In  his  stuffed  and  padded  Court 
costume,  his  feathered  head-dress,  and  his  jewels  one 
cannot  detect  in  him  one  of  the  virile  qualities  which  so 
dominated  her  imagination.  His  treacheries  were  winked 
at,  his  vices  condoned,  even  the  people  who  accused  him 
most  violently  of  the  murder  of  his  first  wife.  Amy 
Robsart,  when  in  perplexity  crawled  to  his  feet,  either 
literally  like  poor  Lady  Catherine  Grey,  or  in  abject 
letters  like  Lady  Lennox,  who  was  one  of  his  bitterest 
accusers  and  who  had  suffered  under  the  spies  he  sent 
into  her  very  house.  Let  us  for  a  few  moments  recall 
the  growth  of  this  personage,  this  veritable  bay-tree. 
He  was  just  Robert  Dudley,  a  younger  son,  the  fifth  of 
a  ruined  family  lying  under  attainder — the  Dukes  of 
Northumberland.  Mary  of  England  restored  him  to 
his  title,  and  drew  him  out  of  nonentity  and  poverty 
by  appointing  him  Master  of  the  Ordnance  at  the 
siege  of  S.  Quentin.  As  soldier  and  courtier  he  cer- 
tainly came  into  contact  with  the  Princess  Elizabeth, 
whose  visits    to    Court  were    finally  forced    upon   her 

175 


176  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

unwilling  sister.  Elizabeth  had  scarcely  been  on  the 
throne  a  few  months  before  she  indulged  with  much 
too  evident  relief  in  flirtations  with  him,  as  a  counter- 
blast to  the  incessant  negotiations  with  the  ambassadors 
of  her  successive  foreign  suitors.  She  coquetted  with 
him  in  her  boat,  she  kept  his  portrait  in  a  secret  cabinet, 
she  showed  off  her  learning,  her  airs  and  graces  before 
him,  she  danced  with  him,  and  when  she  formally- 
created  him  Earl  of  Leicester  she  "could  not  refrain 
from  putting  her  hand  in  his  neck,  smilingly  tickling 
him."  This  honour,  by  the  way,  it  will  be  remembered, 
she  pretended  to  confer  on  him  in  order  that  his  rank 
should  fit  him  for  marriage  with  Mary  Queen  of  Scots, 
and  so  avoid  the  dangers  and  difficulties  to  England 
which  would  arise  from  her  marriage  with  Darnley. 
There  never  was  a  pretence  so  thin.  Elizabeth  made  a 
great  show  of  her  willingness  to  bestow  on  another  her 
"  brother  and  best  friend,  whom  she  would  have  married 
herself  had  she  minded  to  take  a  husband."  Since  she 
had  decided  to  die  a  virgin  she  held  that  such  a  pro- 
cedure in  regard  to  Leicester  would  "  free  her  mind  of 
all  fears  and  suspicions  to  be  offended  by  any  usurpa- 
tion before  her  death,  being  assured  that  he  was  so 
loving  and  trusty  that  he  would  never  suffer  any  such 
thing  to  be  attempted  in  her  time."  While  she  openly 
advertised  Leicester  as  her  favourite,  she  dangled  him 
as  a  prize  over  the  head  of  her  chief  enemy.  She 
always  loved  playing  with  fire,  and  it  is  well  that  this 
time  she  did  not  burn  her  fingers,  for  Leicester  was  the 
complete  courtier  and  could  not  decide  between  the 
two  queens.  In  his  eyes  Mary  had  as  much  chance  of 
ruling  England  as  his  present  mistress.  Mary  did  not 
at  the  beginning  of  her  career  in  Scotland  appear  very 


MY   LORD   LEICESTER'S   CURE         177 

anxious  for  his  wooing.  All  this  helped  Elizabeth. 
Creighton  clearly  takes  the  view  that  the  latter  pro- 
moted the  Darnley  marriage  by  the  very  pushing  of 
Leicester's  claims.  Whether  or  not  he  was  personally 
commendable  to  Mary,  it  was  greatly  to  his  disadvan- 
tage, that,  as  creature  of  Elizabeth,  he  should  be  thrust 
upon  her  enemy. 

Just  at  that  period  Leicester's  familiarity  towards  the 
Queen  touched  gross  impudence.  We  see  him  in  the 
royal  tennis-court  pausing  in  a  match  against  the  premier 
peer  of  England,  the  Duke  of  Norfolk,  to  wipe  his  face 
with  the  handkerchief  quickly  filched  from  the  Queen's 
hand  as  she  sat  amongst  the  onlookers.  The  Duke 
raged,  offered  violence,  and,  unfortunately  for  royal 
dignity,  Elizabeth's  manner  showed  that  she  took  the 
part  of  Leicester.  She  had  already  bestowed  on  him 
while  a  commoner  the  Garter.  The  Order  of  St.  Michael 
was  his  next  honour,  and  he  was  soon  created  Master  of 
the  Horse,  Steward  of  the  Household,  Chancellor  of 
Oxford,  Ranger  of  the  Forests  south  of  Trent,  and, 
later  on,  Captain-General  of  the  English  forces  in  the 
Netherlands.  When  age  and  his  last  illness  brooded 
over  him  his  queen  planned  for  him  a  last  dazzling  post 
— a  new  creation — in  the  Lieutenancy  of  England  and 
Ireland.  Despite  the  scandals  attached  to  his  three 
marriages,^    he   maintained    his    place    in    the   eyes   of 

^  His  three  wives  were  :  Amy  or  Anne,  daughter  and  heir  to  Sir 
John  Robsart  ;  Douglas,  daughter  of  William  Lord  Howard  of  Effing- 
ham and  widow  of  John  Lord  Sheffield,  by  whom  he  had  one  son,  Sir 
Robert  Dudley ;  and  Lettice  Knollys,  daughter  of  Sir  Francis  Knollys 
and  widow  of  Walter  Earl  of  Essex.  Amy  Robsart  died  suddenly  at 
Kenilworth,  and  he  did  not  even  attend  her  funeral ;  Lady  Sheffield  he 
repudiated  because  of  his  passion  for  Lettice  Knollys,  whose  death  took 
place  under  suspicious  circumstances.  He  declared  his  son  by  Lady  Shef- 
N 


1 78  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

Elizabeth,  and  only  in  after  years  seriously  earned  her 
displeasure.  He  had  the  rare  art  of  "  keeping  on  the 
right  side  "  of  Lord  Burghley,  between  whom  and  him- 
self a  sort  of  armed  neutrality  existed,  except  when 
mutual  advantage  found  them  acting  heartily  in  con- 
cert. Leicester,  as  all  his  history  shows,  was,  like 
Buckingham,  a  gay  dog,  a  ladies'  man.  Pretty  women 
hovered  about  him  at  Court — vide  the  letter  from  Gilbert 
Talbot  under  date  May  ii,  1573,  quoted  in  full  in  a 
previous  chapter — he  had  to  keep  them  at  peace  not  to 
give  offence.  He  could  play  with  their  love,  enjoy  it, 
go  to  utmost  lengths,  so  long  as  the  Queen  believed 
that  in  his  heart  no  other  woman  could  take  her  place. 
He  entertained  largely,  he  lived  and  dressed  as  befitted 
his  position.  It  was  above  all  highly  important  that 
he  should  keep  his  health  in  order,  preserve  the  elegant 
lines  of  his  soldier's  figure,  and  defer  as  long  as  possible 
the  days  when  he  would,  in  his  own  phrase,  "grow 
high-coloured  and  red-faced." 

When  he  was  ordered  to  Buxton  it  was  imperative 
that  he  should  be  properly  received  and  housed,  and  not 
lodged  in  the  low  wooden  sheds  which  were  used  by 
the  ordinary  public  during  their  "  cure,"  and  where  their 
fare  seems  to  have  consisted  of  "  oat  cakes,  with  a  viand 
which  the  hosts  called  mutton,  but  which  the  guests 
strongly  suspected  to  be  dog." 

Buxton  waters,  under  the  patronage  of  St.  Anne  "of 
Buckstone  "  and  St.  Andrew  of  Burton,  were  beset  for 
many  years  before  this  with  poor  crippled  pilgrims,  who 

field  to  be  illegitimate,  and  she,  though  married  to  him,  was  so  frightened 
by  his  attempt  to  remove  her  by  poison,  in  order  that  he  might  wed  the 
widowed  Countess  of  Essex,  that,  though  legally  bound  tx)  him,  she 
became  the  wife  of  Sir  Edward  Stafford,  of  Grafton. 


Photo  by  Emery   Walker,  after  the  pictuie  in  the  Xatioiial  Poitrait  Gallery 
ROBERT   DUDLEY,    EARL   OF   LEICESTER 


Page  178 


MY   LORD   LEICESTER'S   CURE         179 

left  symbols  of  their  gratitude  in  the  various  shrines  of 
the  place  in  the  way  of  crutches  and  candles.  When  the 
Cromwell  of  Henry  VIII  wiped  England  of  popery 
these  testimonials  were  all  demolished,  and  he  "  locked 
up  and  sealed  the  baths  and  wells  ..."  pending  the 
royal  permission  "  to  wash  "  therein.  This,  however, 
did  not  prevent  the  Earl  of  Shrewsbury  from  building 
a  suitable  house  for  patients,  and  it  is  thus  described  by 
a  physician  of  the  day : — 

"  Joyninge  to  the  chiefe  sprynge  betweene  the  river 
and  the  bathe  is  a  very  goodly  house,  four  square,  four 
stories  hye,  so  well  compacte  with  houses  and  offices 
underneath,  and  above  and  round  about,  with  a  great 
chamber,  and  other  goodly  lodgings  to  the  number  of 
thirty,  that  it  is  and  will  be  a  bewty  to  beholde  ;  and 
very  notable  for  the  honourable  and  worshipful  that 
shall  need  to  repair  thither,  as  also  for  others. 

"  Yea,  and  the  porest  shall  have  lodgings  and  beds 
hard  by  for  their  uses  only.  The  bathes  also  so  beautified 
with  seats  round  ;  defended  from  the  ambyent  air  ;  and 
chimneys  for  fyre  to  ayre  your  garments  in  the  bathes 
side,  and  other  necessaries  most  decent." 

Prices  for  baths  varied  according  to  the  social  posi- 
tion of  the  patient !  An  archbishop  seems  to  head  the 
scale  with  a  compulsory  payment  of  ;^5,  while  a  yeo- 
man only  paid  twelvepence,  and  was  entitled  to  as  long 
a  cure  as  the  Primate.  Lord  Leicester,  coming  in  the 
category  of  Earls,  was  charged  twenty  shillings.  One 
half  of  the  fee  went  to  the  doctor  in  command,  the  rest 
towards  a  fund  for  the  cure  of  the  poorest  cripples. 

The  aforesaid  house,  which  four  times  sheltered  both 
Mary  of  Scotland  and  once  at  least  Lord  Leicester,  is 


i8o  BESS   OF    HARDWICK 

now  gone  ;  in  place  of  it  is  a  hotel,  and  there  is  no 
trace  of  the  "pleasant  warm  bowling-green  planted 
about  with  large  sycamore  trees."  This,  according  to 
another  authority,  was  part  of  its  garden,  and  it  was 
Gilbert  Talbot's  duty  to  entertain  his  father's  dazzling 
guest  and  the  Queen's  favourite  in  this  pleasant  spot. 
During  the  week  of  this  memorable  visit  the  young 
man  never  lost  an  opportunity  of  furthering  his 
family's  cause  and  of  sounding  influential  persons  at 
all  seasons.  He,  like  others,  had  constant  recourse  to 
Leicester,  both  by  word  of  mouth  and  pen.  The  letter 
which  follows^  is  a  typical  epistle  of  the  kind  which 
is  scattered  through  the  society  correspondence  of  the 
day. 

We  see  by  this  that  Gilbert  was  actually  at  "  Buck- 
stones"  doing  the  honours  of  his  father's  house  there 
to  any  distinguished  guests,  while  the  Earl,  his  father, 
was  nailed  to  his  post  at  Sheffield,  and  the  Countess 
presumably  busying  herself  with  the  killing  of  the  fatted 
calf  at  Chatsworth  in  readiness  to  honour  Leicester  on 
his  going  southward. 

She  must  have  hailed  this  epistle  with  huge  satisfac- 
tion, since  it  definitely  announces  the  Earl's  presence 
at  Buxton  with  his  intention  of  accepting  her  invita- 
tion to  Chatsworth,  and  at  the  same  time  assures  her 
of  his  good  offices  on  behalf  of  young  Lady  Lennox. 
Poor  Elizabeth  Cavendish  was  by  this  time  a  widow,'' 
almost  penniless,  and  appealing  to  the  Queen  for  finan- 
cial support  on  behalf  of  the  baby  Lady  Arabella.  The 
letter  is  addressed  to  both  of  Gilbert's  parents  : — 

^  Hunter's  llallamshirc. 

'  Her  husband  died  of  consumption  within  two  years  of  the  hasty 
and  romantic  wedding  at  Rufford  Abbey. 


MY   LORD   LEICESTER'S   CURE         i8i 

"  My  duty,  etc, — This  morning  early  I  delivered  your 
L.'s  packet  to  my  L.  of  Leicester,  who,  upon  reading 
thereof,  said  he  would  write  to  your  L.  by  a  post  that 
is  here,  and  willed  me  to  send  away  your  lackey.  1 
asked  him  how  long  he  thought  to  tarry  here,  and 
prayed  him  to  tarry  as  long  as  might  be.  And  he  said 
he  knew  not  whether  to  go  to  Chatsworth  on  Tuesday 
or  Wednesday  or  Thursday  come  seven  nights,  but  one 
of  those  three  days  without  fail.  There  came  some  score 
of  fowl  here  on  Saturday,  which  served  here  very  well 
yesterday,  and  will  do  this  three  or  four  days.  Sir  Hugh 
Chamley  sent  hither  to  my  L.  of  Leicester  a  very  fat 
beef,  which  my  L.  of  Leicester  bade  me  go  down  to 
see,  and  to  take  him  to  use  as  I  listed  ;  but  I  told  him 
I  was  sure  your  L.  would  be  angry  if  I  took  him  ;  yet 
for  all  this,  he  would  force  me  to  take  him  ;  and  so  I  kept 
him  here  in  the  town  till  I  know  your  L.'s  pleasure 
what  shall  be  done  with  him  ;  he  would  serve  very 
well  for  Chatsworth.  Bayley  thinketh  that  they  will 
tarry  two  or  three  days  at  Chatsworth.  There  is  no 
word  yet  come  from  my  L.  of  Huntington  and  my  La. 
whether  they  will  meet  my  L.  of  Leicester  at  Chats- 
worth or  not ;  if  they  do  (as  he  hath  written  very 
earnestly  to  them)  I  think  he  will  not  come  to  Ashby, 
but  go  the  next  way  to  Killingworth  and  there  tarry  but 
two  or  three  days  only.  My  L.  of  Rutland,  by  reason 
of  the  foul  afternoon  yesterday,  lay  here  all  the  last 
night  in  the  chamber  where  Sir  Henry  Lea  lodged.  I 
showed  the  letter  of  my  La.  Lennox,  your  daughter,  to 
my  L.  of  Leicester,  who  said  that  he  thought  it  were  far 
better  for  him  to  defer  her  suit  to  her  Majesty  till  his 
own  coming  to  the  Court  than  otherwise  to  write  to  her 
before  ;  for  that  he  thinketh  her  Majesty  will  suppose 


1 82  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

his  letter,  if  he  should  write,  were  but  at  your  La.'s 
request,  and  so  by  another  letter  would  straight  answer 
it  again,  and  so  it  do  no  great  good  ;  but  at  his  meet- 
ing your  La.  he  will  (he  saith)  advise  in  what  sort  your 
La.  shall  write  to  the  Queen  Majesty,  which  he  will 
carry  unto  her,  and  then  be  as  earnest  a  solicitor 
therein  as  ever  he  was  for  anything  irj  his  life,  and  he 
doubteth  not  to  prevail  to  your  La.  contention.  To- 
morrow my  L.  of  Leicester  meaneth  to  go  to  Sir  Peres 
a  Leyes  to  meet  with  my  L.  of  Derby,  if  the  weather 
be  any  whit  fair.  And  thus  most  humbly  craving  your 
Lo.'s  blessing  with  my  wonted  prayer  for  your  long 
continuance  in  all  honour  and  most  perfect  health  and 
long  life  I  cease.  At  Buxton  in  haste  this  present 
Monday  before  noon. 

"  Your  Lo.'s  most  humble  and  obedient  son, 

"  G.  Talbot. 

"  The  Lords  do  pray  your  L.  to  remember  their  case 
(of)  knives."^ 

There  is  no  further  comment  from  him  on  the  sub- 
ject of  this  visit,  but  later  letters  will  show  that  it  went 
off  smoothly  and  resulted  in  benefit  to  the  patient.  As 
for  his  visit  to  Chatsworth  it  appears  to  have  been  a 
triumphant  success.  Many  things  were  talked  out 
between  host,  hostess,  and  guest  in  the  few  days  of  his 
sojourn.  They  had  many  experiences  in  common — 
to  wit,  the  insane  jealousy  and  suspicions  of  their 
Sovereign.  But  on  this  occasion  their  meeting  hatched 
no  unpleasant  results  in  this  respect.     The  Queen  her- 

^  Hallamshire  knives,  or  "  whittles,"  were  famous,  and  the  Earl  often 
sent  gifts  of  sets  to  his  friends  in  these  early  days  of  the  development  of 
Sheffield  cutlery. 


From  a  photo  by  Richard  Kccne,  Ltd.,  Derby,  after  the  picture  at  Hardzvick  Hall 
By  permission  of  his  Grace  the  Duke  of  Devonshire 

QUEEN   ELIZABETH 


iPage  1 8a 


MY   LORD   LEICESTER'S   CURE         183 

self  wrote  to  thank  them  for  their  good  entertainment 
of  her  valued  friend.  And  hereby  hangs  a  little  comedy, 
a  mystery.  Two  letters,  evidently  of  the  same  date, 
were  dictated  by  the  Queen.  The  skittish  original  in 
the  handwriting  of  Sir  Francis  Walsingham  was  not 
sent.  A  sedate  version  of  it  was  the  one  which  the 
Shrewsburys  opened.  This  is  among  the  Talbot  manu- 
scripts. The  lively  edition  remains  in  the  Record  Office 
among  the  Mary  Queen  of  Scots  MSS.  for  the  amuse- 
ment of  posterity.  Opinions  differ  as  to  the  mood  in 
which  Elizabeth  wrote  it.^  It  has  been  suggested  that 
it  was  done  in  a  flippant  ironical  spirit  ;  it  has  also  been 
taken  as  a  symptom  of  wild  elation  born  of  Elizabeth's 
belief  that  her  marriage  with  Lord  Leicester  would 
really  be  achieved.  It  seems  most  likely  that  she 
certainly  dashed  it  off  in  a  flippant  mood,  with  the 
intention  of  chaffing  the  serious  apprehensive  High 
Steward  of  England  and  his  wife,  and  that  Lord 
Burghley,  or  Walsingham,  advised  her  to  desist  and  to 
allow  a  copy  to  be  made,  excluding  the  "larky"  passages. 
This  is  what  she  sent  : — 

"The  Queen  to  the  Earl  and  Countess  of  Shrews- 
bury. 

"  By  the  Queen. 

"  Your  most  assured  loving  cousin  and  sovereign, 
Elizabeth  R. 
"  Our  very  good  Cousins, 

"  Being  given  to  understand  from  our  cousin  of 
Leicester  how  honourably  he  was  received  by  you  our 

1  Creighton  takes  the  view  that  this  was  Elizabeth's  elaborate  method 
of  flogging  the  couple  at  Chatsworth  for  luring  Leicester  to  Chatsworth, 
and  that  she  highly  disapproved  of  the  visit. 


1 84  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

cousin  the  Countess  at  Chatsworth,  and  his  diet  by  you 
both  discharged  at  Buxtons,  but  also  presented  with 
a  very  rare  present,  we  should  do  him  great  wrong 
(holding  him  in  that  place  of  favour  we  do)  in  case  we 
should  not  let  you  understand  in  what  thankful  sort 
we  accept  the  same  at  your  hands,  not  as  done  unto 
him,  but  to  our  own  self,  reputing  him  as  another  our- 
self ;  and,  therefore,  ye  may  assure  yourselves,  that  we 
taking  upon  us  the  debt  not  as  his  but  as  our  own,  will 
take  care  accordingly  to  discharge  the  same  in  such 
honourable  sort  as  so  well-deserving  creditors  as  ye  are 
shall  never  have  cause  to  think  ye  have  met  with  an 
ungrateful  debtor.  In  this  acknowledgment  of  new 
debts  we  may  not  forget  our  old  debt,  the  same  being 
as  great  as  a  sovereign  can  owe  to  a  subject ;  when 
through  your  loyal  and  most  careful  looking  to  this 
charge  committed  to  you,  both  we  and  our  realm  enjoy 
a  peaceable  government,  the  best  good  hope  that  to  any 
prince  on  earth  can  befall :  This  good  hap,  then,  growing 
from  you,  ye  might  think  yourselves  most  unhappy  if  you 
served  such  a  prince  as  should  not  be  as  ready  graciously 
to  consider  of  it  as  thankfully  to  acknowledge  the  same, 
whereof  ye  may  make  full  account,  to  your  comfort 
when  time  shall  serve.  Given  under  our  signet  in  our 
manor  of  Greenwich,  the  25th  day  of  June,  1577,  and 
in  the  19th  year  of  our  reign." 

This  is  what  Elizabeth,  a  sovereign  of  nineteen  years' 
standing,  a  woman  over  forty  years  of  age,  wanted  to 
send  : — 

"  Being  given  to  understand  from  our  cousin  of 
Leicester  how  honourably  he  was  lately  received  and 
used  by  you,  our  Cousin  the  Countess  of  Chatsworth, 


MY   LORD   LEICESTER'S   CURE         185 

and  how  his  diet  is  by  you  both  discharged  at  Buxtons, 
we  should  do  him  great  wrong  (holding  him  in  that 
place  of  favour  we  do)  in  case  we  should  not  let  you 
understand  in  how  thankful  sort  we  accept  the  same 
at  both  your  hands — which  we  do  not  acknowledge  to 
be  done  unto  him  but  unto  ourselves  ;  and  therefore 
do  mean  to  take  upon  us  the  debt  and  to  acknowledge 
you  both  as  creditors,  so  you  can  be  content  to  accept 
us  for  debtor,  wherein  is  the  danger  unless  you  cut  off 
some  part  of  the  large  allowance  of  diet  you  give  him, 
lest  otherwise  the  debt  thereby  may  grow  to  be  so  great 
as  we  shall  not  be  able  to  discharge  the  same,  and  so 
become  bankrupt,  and  therefore  we  think  it  meet  for 
the  saving  of  our  credit  to  prescribe  unto  you  a  pro- 
portion of  diet  which  we  mean  in  no  case  you  shall 
exceed,  and  that  is  to  allow  him  by  the  day  of  his  meat 
two  ounces  of  flesh  referring  the  quality  to  yourselves, 
so  as  you  exceed  not  the  quantity  ;  and  for  his  drink 
one-twentieth  of  a  pint  of  wine  to  comfort  his  stomach 
and  as  much  of  St.  Anne's  sacred  water  as  he  lusteth 
to  drink.  On  festival  days,  as  is  fit  for  a  man  of  his 
quality,  we  can  be  content  you  shall  enlarge  his  diet 
by  allowing  unto  him  for  his  dinner  the  shoulder  of 
a  wren,  and  for  his  supper  a  leg  of  the  same,  besides 
his  ordinary  ounces.  The  like  proportion  we  mean 
you  shall  allow  unto  our  brother  of  Warwick,^  saying 
that  we  think  it  meet,  in  respect  that  his  body  is  more 
replete  than  his  brother's,  that  the  wren's  leg  allowed 
at  supper  on  festival  days  be  abated  ;  for  that  light 
suppers   agreeth   but  with   the  rules   of   physic.      This 

^  Ambrose  Earl  of  Warwick,  to  whom  Lord  Leicester  bequeathed 
his  estates,  only  making  his  own  son,  Robert  Dudley,  heir  in  the  second 
place. 


1 86  BESS   OF    HARDWICK 

order  our  meaning  is  you  shall  inviolably  observe,  and 
so  you  may  right  well  assure  yourselves  of  a  most 
thankful  debtor  to  so  well-deserving  creditors." 

This  letter  is  endorsed  "  M.  of  her  Mates  Ires  to  the 
Earl  and  Countess  of  Shrewsbury,  of  thanks  for  the 
good  usage  of  my  L.  of  Lee." 

Indeed,  it  was  well  that  it  was  not  sent.  From  one 
point  of  view  it  reads  suspiciously  like  a  skit  devised 
by  Elizabeth  on  the  statements  periodically  sent  her  by 
Lord  Shrewsbury  with  regard  to  the  "diet"  of  the 
Queen  of  Scots,  and  the  number  of  courses  and  dishes 
allowed  her  on  festival  days. 

The  Earl  writes  presently  to  the  Queen  in  his  wife's 
name,  on  this,  his  own,  and  other  matters.  His  tone  is 
artful,  astute,  and  conventional  : — 

"  May  it  please  your  most  excellent  Majesty, 

"The  comfortable  letters  I  lately  received,  of 
your  own  blessed  handwriting,  made  me  by  oft  looking 
on  them,  think  my  happiness  more  than  any  service 
(were  it  never  so  perfect)  could  merit ;  and  myself  more 
bounden  to  your  Highness  for  the  same  than  by  writing 
I  can  express.  And  as  it  pleased  your  Majesty  to  write 
with  assured  confidence  you  have  in  my  fidelity,  and 
safe  keeping  of  this  lady,  doubting  nothing  but  lest 
her  fair  speech  deceive  me,  so  I  am  sure,  although  it 
please  your  Majesty  to  warn'  me  of  her,  yet  doth  your 
wisdom  see  well  enough  by  my  many  years'  service  past 
any  inclination  to  her  was  never  further,  nor  otherwise 
than  of  her  Majesty's  service.  .  .  . 

^  In  sending  her  thanks  for  Leicester's  entertainment  Elizabeth  appar- 
ently despatched  also  to  Shrewsbury  u  separate  letter  embodying  her  old 
suspicious  fears. 


MY   LORD   LEICESTER'S   CURE        187 

"  Nor  have  I  cause  to  trust  her.  Were  her  speech 
fair  or  crabbed  my  only  respect  hath  been,  is  still,  and 
so  shall  continue,  to  the  duty  I  owe  unto  your  Majesty. 
...  I  have  her  forthcoming  at  your  Majesty's  com- 
mandment. .  .  . 

"And  may  it  now  further  please  your  Majesty  to 
license  my  wife  and  me  humbly  to  acknowledge  our- 
selves the  more  bound  to  your  Majesty,  as  well  as  for  the 
comfortable  message  Mr.  Julio  brought  us  lately  from 
your  Majesty,  as  that  it  pleased  your  Majesty  to  vouch- 
safe our  rude  and  gross  entertainment  of  our  devout 
friend,  my  kinsman,  my  Lord  of  Leicester ;  which 
although  in  respect  of  our  duties  to  your  Majesty 
and  the  great  goodwill  we  bear  to  him,  is  not  so  well 
as  it  ought  to  be,  yet  are  we  sure  it  contenteth 
him,  and  displeaseth  not  your  Majesty,  that  he  is  the 
welcomed  friend  to  us  of  all  others.  My  wife  also  bids 
me  yield  her  humble  thanks  to  your  Majesty  .  .  .  and 
now  (since  we  can  do  no  more,  nor  your  Highness 
have  no  more  of  us  than  our  true  and  faithful  hearts 
and  service,  wherein  we  will  spend  our  lives  and  all  we 
have,  if  your  Majesty  command  it)  we  pray  to  God 
for  your  most  excellent  Majesty,  as  we  are  bounden. 
Sheffield,  4th  of  July,  1577. 

"  Your  Majesty's  most  humble,  faithful  servant, 

**  George  Shrewsbury." 

In  this  year,  whether  or  no  the  weather  specially  tended 
to  develop  rheumatism  or  aggravate  it,  there  seems  to 
have  been  a  positive  rush  of  great  persons  to  Buxton. 
A  fortnight  later  Lord  Burghley  wrote  to  inform  the 
Shrewsburys  of  his  expedition  to  the  baths  and,  like 
others,  to  beg  for  hospitality. 


1 88  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

"  I  am  now  thoroughly  licensed  by  her  Majesty  to 
come  thither  with  as  much  speed  as  my  old  crazed 
body  will  suffer  me.  And,  because  I  doubt  your  Lord- 
ship is  and  shall  be  pressed  with  many  other  like  suits 
for  your  favour,  to  have  the  use  of  some  lodgings  there, 
I  am  bold  at  the  present  to  send  this  my  letter  by  post " 
— that  is  to  say,  by  special  messenger.  He  goes  on  : 
"I  am  to  have  in  my  company  but  Mr.  Roger  Manners 
and  my  son,  Thomas  Cecil,  for  whom  I  am  also  to 
interest  your  Lordship  to  procure  them,  by  your  com- 
mandment, some  lodging  as  your  Lordship  shall  please." 

The  Earl  of  Sussex  who  preferred  a  doughty  cure, 
drinking  as  much  as  three  pints  a  day,  made  tender 
enquiries  as  to  the  result  of  the  water  on  the  Lord 
Treasurer.  As  to  its  effects  on  Lord  Leicester,  one 
can  judge  best  by  this  letter  from  a  friend  to  the 
Shrewsburys — Richard  Topclyffe,  a  tremendous  Pro- 
testant, by  the  way,  and  hunter  of  "  mass-mongers  and 
recusants,"  to  the  Countess.  He  reassures  her  fully  as 
to  the  health  of  the  guest  who  had  just  quitted  Chats- 
worth,  quotes  Leicester's  promise  to  further  her  welfare 
and  that  of  her  young  stepsons,  Henry  and  Edward 
Talbot,  his  kinsmen  : — 

"  We  did  yesternight  come  to  Ricote,  my  Lo. 
Norris's,  where  late  did  arrive  the  Countesses  of  Bedford 
and  Cumberland  and  the  Earl  of  Cumberland,  the  Lord 
Wharton  and  his  wife.  The  fat  EarP  cometh  this  day, 
my  L.  of  Leicester  being  departed  towards  the  Court, 
to  Sir  Thomas  Gresham's,  thirty-three  miles  hence 
(whereby  you  may  perceive  of  his  health),  only  a  little 

*  Could  this  be  the  Earl  of  Warwick,  who,  as  suggested  in  Elizabeth's 
skittish  letterjust  quoted,  had  been  invited  toChatsworth  with  Lord  Leicester? 


MY   LORD   LEICESTER'S   CURE         189 

troubled  with  a  boil  drawing  to  a  head  in  the  calf  of 
the  leg,  which  maketh  him  use  his  litter.  The  Countess 
kept  him  long  waiting,  asking  if  Buxton  sent  sound 
men  halting  home.  But  I  never  did  hear  him  commend 
the  place,  nor  the  entertainment  half  so  much  :  and  did 
sware  that  he  wished  he  had  tarried  three  weeks  longer 
with  his  charge  .  .  .  but,  saith  he,  it  hath,  and  would 
have  cost  my  friends  deeply.  His  L.  wished  her 
Majesty  would  progress  to  Grafton  and  Killingworth, 
which  condition  he  would  see  Buxton  this  summer 
again.  But  the  next  year  is  threatened  that  journey. 
I  can  send  your  La.  no  more  unpleasant  news  but 
that  his  Lo.  hath  said  with  me  in  vows  that  he  will 
be  as  tender  over  your  Lord  and  yourself,  and  both 
yours,  as  over  his  own  health  :  and  my  Lo.  is  very 
careful  over  his  two  young  cousins,  Mr.  Ed.  and  Mr. 
Hen.,  to  have  them  placed  at  Oxford,  wishing  that  he 
may  find  of  his  kindred  to  work  his  goodwill  upon,  as 
he  hath  done  hitherto  on  many  unthankful  persons. 
Good  madam,  further  you  my  good  Lo.,  your  husband's 
disposition  that  way  for  your  son  Charles.  .  .  .  And 
therewith  I  end  ;  in  very  humble  sort.  The  9th  of 
July,  1577. 

"  Your  La.  ever  at  command, 

"  RiC.    TOPCLIFFE."^ 

Everything  as  regards  the  Talbot  and  Cavendish 
family  was  going  well — merrily  as  a  marriage-bell,  so 
far  as  "  Bess  "  was  concerned.  The  widowhood  of  her 
youngest  daughter.  Lady  Lennox,  did  not  affect  her. 
It  was  only  one  more  tool  to  her  hand  in  scheming  for 
the  Queen's  favour,  the  Queen's  largesse,  and  in  balanc- 

1  Hunter's  Hallamshire. 


I90  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

ing  any  foolish  and  unwise  notions  which  the  Countess 
might  have  previously  entertained  in  regard  to  Queen 
Mary's  cause. 

Mary,  it  may  be  recalled  here,  had  had  more  than 
one  chance  of  marriage  with  Lord  Leicester.  He  had, 
so  to  speak,  meandered  in  and  out  of  her  affairs,  now  as 
suitor,  now  as  go-between.  As  recently  as  1574,  three 
years  previous  to  his  Buxton  visit,  he  seems  for  the 
second  time  to  have  entertained  thoughts  of  making  her 
an  offer  of  marriage,  whereas  previously  he  had  used 
his  influence  on  behalf  of  the  Duke  of  Norfolk's  wooing, 
and  again  with  a  view  to  averting  his  condemnation. 
In  1574  Mary  was  so  firmly  impressed  with  his  attitude 
towards  her  that  she  advised  her  relations  in  France  to 
pave  the  way  for  friendly  overtures  with  a  gift  to 
Leicester.  She  was  also  about  this  time  very  anxious 
to  refurbish  her  wardrobe,  and  took  a  great  interest  in 
securing  brilliant  and  becoming  materials  and  millinery 
of  the  kind  most  in  vogue  :  "Send  by  and  by  Jean  de 
Compiegne,"  she  writes, "  and  let  him  bring  me  patterns 
of  dresses  and  samples  of  cloth  of  gold  and  silver  and 
silk,  the  most  beautiful  and  rare  that  are  worn  at  Court, 
to  learn  my  pleasure  about  them.  Order  Poissy  to 
make  me  a  couple  of  headdresses,  with  a  crown  of  gold 
and  silver,  such  as  they  have  formerly  made  for  me  ; 
and  tell  Breton  to  remember  his  promise,  and  obtain  for 
me  from  Italy  the  newest  fashions  in  headdresses,  and 
veils  and  ribbons,  with  gold  and  silver.  ..."  There 
was  no  blindness  about  the  way  she  regarded  the  possi- 
bility of  such  a  marriage.  She  held  that  Leicester's 
motives  were  anything  but  romantic  or  altruistic.  But 
if  so  powerful  a  suitor  could  be  secured,  and  above  all 
seduced    from    allegiance   to    Elizabeth,  Mary   had    no 


MY   LORD   LEICESTER'S   CURE         191 

objection  to  the  match.     Her  letters  to  France  are  full 
of  allusions  to  him  : — ^ 

"Leicester  talks  over  M.  de  La  Mothe  to  persuade 
him  that  he  is  wholly  for  me,  and  endeavours  to  gain 
over  Walsingham  my  mortal  enemy  to  this  effect." 

And  again  :  "  M.  de  La  Mothe  advises  me  to  entreat 
that  my  cousin  of  Guise,  my  grandmother  and  yours, 
will  write  some  civil  letters  to  Leicester,  thanking  him 
for  his  courtesy  to  me,  as  if  he  had  done  much  for  me, 
and  by  the  same  medium  send  him  some  handsome 
present,  which  will  do  me  much  good.  He  takes  great 
delight  in  furniture  ;  if  you  send  him  some  crystal  cup 
in  your  name,  and  allow  me  to  pay  for  it,  or  some  fine 
Turkey  carpet,  or  such  like  as  you  may  think  most  fit- 
ting, it  will  perhaps  save  me  this  winter,  and  will  make 
him  much  ashamed,  or  suspected  by  his  mistress,  and 
all  will  assist  me.  For  he  intends  to  make  me  speak  of 
marriage  or  die,  as  it  is  said,  so  that  either  he  or  his 
brother  may  have  to  do  with  this  crown.  I  beseech  you 
try  if  such  small  device  can  save  me  and  I  shall  enter- 
tain him  with  the  other,  at  a  distance." 

How  this  letter  reveals  her  impulse  for  romance, 
her  pathetic,  dogged  attempts  to  believe  herself  all- 
powerful  ! 

Leicester,  naturally,  was  far  too  cautious  to  take  the 
tremendous  risk  involved,  and  contented  himself  with 
keeping  at  a  distance  and  in  exchanging  polite  and 
friendly  letters  with  the  Shrewsburys,  such  as  the  one 
quoted  on  page  170.  He  was  an  adept  at  this  kind  of 
sugary  testimonial.     Certainly  no   finer  instance   could 

1  Letters  of  Mary  Queen  of  Scots,  quoted  by  Leader. 


192  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

be  given  in  support  of  the  dignity,  virtue,  and  innocence 
of  an  intriguing  and  busy  lady  from  the  pen  of  an 
arch-courtier — a  man  accused  of  wife-murder,  seduction, 
poisoning,  and  political  treachery. 


CHAPTER   XIII 


THE    DIVIDED    WAY 


CEEING  that  my  Lady  of  Shrewsbury  had  trium- 
phantly  surmounted  one  of  the  greatest  dangers 
she  had  ever  drawn  upon  herself  and  hers,  one  can 
safely  assume  that  after  the  foregoing  letter  she  was  in 
a  tolerably  prancing  and  jovial  temper.  Socially  she 
really  was  for  the  moment  a  much  more  important 
item  to  be  reckoned  with  than  Mary  Queen  of  Scots 
herself.  All  the  difficulties  of  the  past  two  years  had 
only  served  to  bring  her  into  closer  touch  with  both 
queens.  Meantime  she  was  a  rich  and  honoured  lady 
with  a  great  many  irons  in  the  fire,  and  her  wants  and 
requirements  were  legion.  She  still  wanted  ale  and  wood 
and  stone,  she  could  not  spend  all  her.  valuable  time 
dancing  attendance  upon  Mary,  or  sharing  the  dull  semi- 
military  routine  of  Sheffield  Castle  and  Sheffield  Lodge. 
She  went  to  her  beloved  Chatsworth,  and  husband  and 
wife  exchanged  letters.  Here  is  a  wistful  appreciation 
from  him  : — 

"  My  Sweetheart, — Your  true  and  faithful  zeal  you 
bear  me  is  more  comfortable  to  me  than  anything  I  can 
think  upon,  and  I  give  God  thanks  daily  for  his  benefits 
he  hath  bestowed  on  me,  and  greatest  cause  I  have  to 
give  him  thanks  that  he  hath  sent  me  you  in  my  old 
years  to  comfort  me  withal.  Your  coming  I  shall  think 
o  193 


194  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

long  for,  and  shall  send  on  Friday  your  litter  horses 
and  on  Saturday  morning  I  will  send  my  folks,  because 
Friday  they  will  be  desirous  to  be  at  Rotherham  Fair. 

"  It  appears  by  my  sister  Wingfield's  letter  there  is 
bruit  of  this  Queen's  going  from  mc.  I  thank  you  for 
sending  it  me,  which  I  return  again,  and  will  not 
show  it  till  you  may  speak  it  yourself  what  you  hear  ; 
and  I  have  sent  you  John  Knifton's  letter,  that  Lord 
brought  me,  that  you  may  perceive  what  is  [?  bruited] 
of  the  young  King.  I  thank  you  for  your  fat  capon  and 
it  shall  be  baked,  and  kept  cold  and  untouched  until  my 
sweetheart  come  ;  guess  you  who  it  is.  I  have  sent 
you  a  cock  that  was  given  to  me,  which  is  all  the 
dainties  I  have  here. 

**  I  have  written  to  Sellars  to  send  every  week  a 
quarter  of  rye  for  this  ten  weeks,  which  will  be  as 
much  as  I  know  will  be  had  there,  and  ten  quarters 
of  barley,  which  will  be  all  that  I  can  spare  you.  Fare- 
well, my  sweet  true  none  and  faithful  wife. 

"  All  yours, 

"Shrewsbury."^ 

Here  is  a  letter  from  her  to  him,  brisk,  tart,  affection- 
ate all  at  once  : — 

"  My  dear  heart, 

"  I  have  sent  your  letters  again  and  thank  you 
for  them ;  they  require  no  answer  ;  but  when  you  write 
remember  to  thank  him  for  them.  If  you  cannot  get 
my  timber  carried  I  must  be  without  it  though  I  greatly 
want  it;  but  if  it  would  please  you  to  command  Hebert 
or  any  other,  to  move  your  tenants  to  bring  it,  I  ken 

*  Hunter's  Hallamskire. 


THE   DIVIDED   WAY  195 

they  will  not  deny  to  do  it.  I  pray  you  let  me  know  if 
I  shall  have  the  ton  of  iron.  If  you  cannot  spare  it 
I  must  make  shift  to  get  it  elsewhere,  for  I  may  not 
now  want  it.  You  promised  to  send  me  money  afore 
this  time  to  buy  oxen,  but  I  see,  out  of  sight  out  of 
mind  with  you. 

"  My  son  Gilbert  has  been  very  ill  in  his  bed  ever 
since  he  came  from  Sheffield  :  I  think  it  is  his  old 
disease  ;  he  is  now,  I  thank  God,  somewhat  better  and 
she  very  well.  I  will  send  you  the  bill  of  my  wood 
stuff:  I  pray  you  let  it  be  sent  to  Joseph,  that  he  may 
be  sure  to  receive  all.  I  thank  you  for  taking  order  for 
the  carriage  of  it  in  Hardwick  ;  if  you  would  command, 
your  waggoner  might  bring  it  thither  :  I  think  it  would 
be  safest  carried.  Here  is  neither  malt  nor  hops.  The 
malt  come  last  is  so  very  ill  and  stinking,  as  Hawkes 
thinks  none  of  my  workmen  will  drink  it.  Show  this 
letter  to  my  friend  and  then  return  it.  I  think  you  will 
take  no  discharge  at  Zouch's  hands  nor  the  rest.  You 
may  work  still  in  despite  of  them  ;  the  law  is  on  your 
side.^  It  cannot  be  but  that  you  shall  have  the  Queen's 
consent  to  remove  hither  ;  therefore  if  you  would  have 
things  in  readiness  for  your  provision,  you  might  the 
sooner  come.  Come  either  before  Midsummer  or  not 
this  year  ;  for  any  provision  you  have  yet  you  might 
have  come  as  well  as  at  Easter  as  at  this  day.  Here  is 
yet  no  manner  of  provision  more  than  a  little  drink, 
which  makes  me  to  think  you  mind  not  to  come.  God 
send  my  jewel  health. 

"  Your  faithful  wife 

"E.Shrewsbury." 

^  The  Earl  and  Sir  John  Zouch,  a  kinsman  of  the  Countess,  were 
contesting  the  right  to  sell  some  Derbyshire  lead  mines. 


196  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

"  Saturday  morn. 

"  I  have  sent  you  lettuce  for  that  you  love  them  ; 
and  every  second  day  some  is  sent  to  your  charge  and 
you.  I  have  nothing  else  to  send.  Let  me  hear  how 
you,  your  charge  and  love  do,  and  commend  me  I  pray 
you.  It  were  well  you  sent  four  or  five  pieces  of  the 
great  hangings  that  they  might  be  put  up  ;  and  some 
carpets.  I  wish  you  would  have  things  in  that  readiness 
that  you  might  come  either  three  or  four  days  after  you 
hear  from  Court.  Write  to  Baldwin  to  call  on  my  Lord 
Treasurer  for  answer  of  your  letters." 

The  expression  in  the  postscript  "  your  charge  and 
love  '*  has  been  variously  interpreted  by  historians.  It 
is  utterly  inconceivable  that,  as  suggested,  Lady  Shrews- 
bury should  have  indicated  Mary  Queen  of  Scots  by 
the  last  word.  Had  she  wished  to  bring  an  accusation 
of  this  kind  against  her  husband  she  would  not  immedi- 
ately add  her  desire  that  he  should  join  her  as  soon  as 
possible.  It  is  not  unlikely  that  this  perplexing  sentence 
should  run,  "  Let  me  hear  how  you,  your  charge,  and 
(our)  love  do,"  the  "  love  "  probably  signifying  a  child 
or  grandchild  then  with  the  Earl.  Similarly  the  words 
"  God  send  my  jewel  health  "  may  apply  to  the  same 
child,  for  in  after  years  she  uses  this  term  of  endear- 
ment almost  exclusively  in  speaking  of  her  precious 
grandchild,  Arabella  Stuart.  Her  peremptory  request 
for  "great  hangings  and  carpets"  is  rather  interesting, 
because  a  previous  family  letter,  not  yet  included,  gives 
a  picture  of  the  Earl's  parsimony  in  these  details.  This 
occurs  as  early  as  two  years  before  the  date  of  the  above 
letters  ;  and  two  long  epistles  from  Gilbert  to  his  step- 
mother show,  first,  how  the  long  strain  of  his  duties  was 


THE   DIVIDED   WAY  197 

telling  upon  the  Earl,  and,  secondly,  the  unfavourable 
contrast  produced  on  the  minds  of  their  children  by  the 
manner  in  which  they  were  treated  respectively  by  father 
and  mother. 

Gilbert,  at  Sheffield  in  1575,  describes  the  atmosphere 
of  the  house  as  utterly  uncongenial.  He  is  longing  to 
be  away  and  to  have  his  own  home.  Lady  Shrewsbury 
was  away,  probably  at  Chats  worth.  ^ 

"  My  L.  is  continually  pestered  with  his  wonted  busi- 
ness, and  is  very  often  in  exceeding  choler  of  slight 
occasion  ;  a  great  grief  to  them  that  loves  him  to  see 
him  hurt  himself  so  much.  He  now  speaketh  nothing 
of  my  going  to  house,  and  I  fear  would  be  contented 
with  silence  to  pass  it  over  ;  but  I  have  great  hope  in 
your  La.  at  your  coming,  and  in  all  my  life  I  never 
longed  for  anything  so  much  as  to  be  from  hence  ; 
truly,  Madame,  I  rather  wish  myself  a  ploughman  than 
here  to  continue." 

Her  Ladyship  came  and  went,  but  does  not  seem  to 
have  had  much  effect  in  softening  her  lord.  Soon  after- 
wards Gilbert  writes  again,  oppressed  by  his  father's  lack 
of  lavishness  in  regard  to  the  fitting  out  of  his  son's 
home — an  attitude  which  he  compares  unfavourably  with 
the  generous  methods  of  the  stepmother.^ 

"  Madame,  where  it  hath  pleased  your  La.  to  bestow 
on  us  a  great  deal  of  furniture  towards  house  we  can 
but  by  our  prayers  for  your  La.  show  ourselves  dutiful 
as  well  for  this  as  all  other  your  La.  continual  bene- 
fits towards  us,  whereof  we  can  never  fail  so  long  as  it 
shall  please  God  to  continue  His  grace  towards  us.    Pre- 

^  Hunter's  Hallamshire.  ^  Ibid. 


198  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

sently  after  your  La.  departure  from  hence  my  Lord 
appointed  him  of  the  wardrobe  to  deliver  us  the  tester 
and  curtains  of  the  old  green  and  red  bed  of  velvet  and 
satin  that  your  La.  did  see  ;  and  the  cloth  bed  tester 
and  curtains  we  now  lie  in,  and  two  very  old  counter- 
panes of  tapestry  ;  and  forbad  him  to  deliver  the  bed  of 
cloth  of  gold  and  tawny  velvet  that  your  La.  saw.  That 
which  your  La.  hath  given  us  is  more  worth  than  all 
that  is  at  Goodrich,^  or  here  of  my  Lord's  bestowing. 
On  Wednesday  my  Lord  went  hence.  Cooks  brought 
in  a  piece  of  housewife's  cloth  nothing  dearer  than 
twelve  pence  the  yard,  and  so  was  holden  ;  which  Cooks 
told  my  Lord  would  very  well  serve  my  wife  to  make 
sheets,  bore  cloths  and  such  like  :  which  my  L.  at  the 
very  first  yielded  unto,  and  bade  him  carry  it  to 
Stele  to  measure,  into  the  outer  chamber,  and  he  said  he 
thought  it  very  dear  of  that  price,  and  thereupon  my  L. 
refused  to  buy  it.  .  .  .  Thus  I  beseech  your  La.  most 
humbly  of  your  blessing  to  your  little  fellow'^  and  myself 
who  is  very  well,  thanks  be  to  God.  .  .  . 

"Sheffield,  this  Friday,  13th  of  October,  1575." 

Here  for  the  first  time  is  the  beginning  of  real  dis- 
sension in  the  family.  The  Earl's  own  son  murmurs 
against  him,  and  the  wife,  being  the  daughter  of  her 
husband's  stepmother,  would  naturally  share  his  resent- 
ment towards  the  soldierly  official  towards  whom  she 
stood  in  such  a  very  delicate  double  relationship.  The 
young  couple  are  placed  in  a  very  difficult  position 
henceforth  between  Earl  and  Countess,  and  their  letters 

'  Goodrich  Castle,  in   Herefordshire  ;  also  one  of  the  Shrewsbury 
properties  at  this  date. 
2  His  little  son. 


Photo  by  Richard  Keenc,  Ltd.,  Dcr/>y,  after  the  J>ainti::g  at  Hardwick  Hall 
By  pcr:nissioti  of  his  Grace  the  Duke  of  Devonshire 

ELIZABETH  COUNTESS  OF  SHREWSBURY 


THE   DIVIDED   WAY  199 

show  the  growing  jealousy  of  her  absence  and  her  inde- 
pendence in  the  Earl's  mind.  The  postscript  strikes  a 
tenderer  note  in  the  allusion  to  the  childish  days  of  the 
"  lyttell  fellow  " — George,  son  and  heir  of  Gilbert  and 
Mary  Talbot — and  his  awe  of  his  "  Lady  Danmode  " 
(Grandmother). 

"  My  duty,  most  humble  rem.  R.  Ho.,  my  most 
singular  good  La.  This  day  my  Lo.  intendeth  to  go 
to  Worsopp ;  to-morrow  to  RufFord ;  and  on  Saturday 
hither  again.  He  was  not  so  inquisitive  of  me  touching 
your  La.  since  my  last  being  at  Chatsworth,  as  he  was 
the  time  before ;  only  he  hath  asked  me  many  times 
when  I  thought  your  La.  would  be  here  :  whereto  I 
have  answered  sometimes  that  your  La.  was  so  ill  at  ease 
with  the  rheumatism  as  you  knew  not  when  God  would 
make  you  able  ;  other  times,  that  I  thought  when  your 
La.  were  well,  you  would  desire  to  stay  for  some  months 
if  he  would  give  you  leave  ;  for  you  assuredly  thought 
my  Lo.  was  better  pleased  with  your  absence  than  pres- 
ence. Whereunto  he  replied  very  earnestly  the  con- 
trary in  such  manner  as  he  hath  done  heretofore  when  I 
have  told  him  the  like.  I  found  occasion  to  tell  him 
that  your  La.  meant  not  to  hold  Owen  as  your  groom 
any  longer,  since  it  was  his  pleasure  to  be  so  offended 
with  him  :  howbeit  (I  said)  your  La.  told  me  that  you 
knew  not  what  offence  he  had  committed,  nor  other  by 
him  at  all  than  that  he  was  a  simple,  true  man,  and  that 
you  would  be  glad  to  understand  something  to  lay  to 
his  charge  when  you  should  turn  him  out  of  your 
service.  But  he  answered  no  other  than  that  it  was 
his  will  for  divers  causes  which  he  would  not  utter. 
Further,  I  said   your  La.  told  me  you  meant  to  take 


200  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

some  wise  fellow  as  your  groom  that  should  not  be  so 
simple  as  Owen  was,  but  one  who  had  been  in  service 
heretofore  and  knew  what  were  fit  and  belonged  to  him 
to  do  in  that  service.  Quoth  he :  *  I  believe  she  will 
take  none  of  my  putting  to  her.'  Since  that  time  he 
gave  no  occasion  of  speech  of  your  La.,  and  indeed  I 
have  not  been  very  much  with  him  these  four  or  five 
days,  for  he  had  much  business  with  others.  He  is 
nothing  so  merry  in  my  judgment  as  he  was  the  last 
week;  but  I  assure  your  La.  I  know  not  any  cause  at 
all.  No  other  thing  I  know  worthy  of  your  La.  know- 
ledge at  this  present.  Therefore,  with  most  humble 
desire  of  your  La.  blessings  to  me  and  mine,  and  our 
prayer  for  your  La.  continuance  in  all  honour,  most 
perfect  health  and  felicity,  I  cease. 

"  Sheffield,  this  present  Thursday,  ist  August,  1577. 
"  Your  La.  most  humble  and  obedient 
loving  children, 
"  Gilbert  Talbot,  M.  Talbot. 

"  George  is  very  well,  I  thank  God  :  he  drinketh 
every  day  to  La.  Grandmother,  rideth  to  her  often,  but 
yet  within  the  Court;  and  if  he  have  any  spice,  I  tell 
him  La.  Grandmother  is  come  and  will  see  him  ;  which 
he  then  will  either  quickly  hide  or  quickly  eat,  and  then 
asks  where  La.  Danmode  is." 

Here  it  is  very  distinctly  set  forth,  the  growing  dis- 
trust, the  little  suspicions  nursed  by  husband  and  wife  : 
"  He  was  not  so  inquisitive  of  me  touching  your  Lady- 
ship." "  He  asked  me  divers  times  when  I  thought 
your  Ladyship  would  be  here."  "  You  assuredly  thought 
that  my  Lord  was  better  pleased  with  your  absence  than 
presence."     And  in  expressing  his  mother's  willingness 


THE   DIVIDED   WAY  201 

to  send  away  one  of  her  grooms,  since  her  lord  was  so 
offended  with  him,  though  she  would  gladly  know  of 
some  offence  to  allege  in  giving  the  man  his  dismissal, 
he  shows  that  my  Lord  still  is  mistrustful.  "  She'll 
take  no  groom  that  I  recommend  to  her  "  is  his  morose 
comment. 

Another  long  letter  from  Gilbert  the  go-between  gives 
the  quarrel  a  more  serious  colour.  Apparently  it  is 
the  absurd  old  matter  of  household  tapestries  which 
is  the  immediate  bone  of  contention.  In  vulgar  phrase, 
there  seems  to  have  been  a  regular  "  row  "  over  some 
embroiderers — upholsterer's  men  as  they  would  now  be 
called — at  Sheffield  Lodge,  who  had  been  turned  adrift 
instead  of  being  carefully  housed  while  at  their  work. 
The  Earl's  steward,  one  Dickenson,  evidently  acted 
against  express  orders  in  his  zeal  to  keep  at  a  distance 
all  persons  who  were  not  actually  of  the  household  and 
who  might  convey  letters  or  messages  to  the  captive. 
The  Earl  had  expressed  himself  forcibly  and  the  Countess 
could  not  forget  his  words.  But  she  had  not  restrained 
her  tongue  either,  and  he  had  retorted  that  she  scolded 
"like  one  that  came  from  the  Bank."  He  does  not 
like  the  groom,  Owen  (alluded  to  in  the  letter  just 
quoted),  and  couples  him  with  the  embroiderer's  men. 
But  the  thing  which  most  hurts  him  is  that  his  wife 
should  have  left  Sheffield,  whither  he  is  bound  from 
Bolsover,  the  very  day  he  arrives.  He  cannot  forgive 
it,  in  spite  of  her  suggestion  that  he  should  combine 
some  business  he  has  to  transact  in  the  Peak  district 
with  a  visit  to  her  at  Chatsworth.  He  is,  moreover, 
morbidly  sensitive  about  the  whole  position,  and  thinks 
that  his  wife's  departure  will  make  a  very  bad  im- 
pression upon  his  household.     Gilbert  pleads  her  love 


202  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

and  devotion,  and  draws  a  vivid  picture  of  her  distress. 
The  Earl  melts  ;  he  concedes  her  love  ;  he  reiterates 
all  he  has  done  for  her,  all  he  has  "bestowed."  And 
lastly  he  curses  her  building  projects  which  take  her 
so  constantly  away  from  him. 

"  My  duty  most  humbly  remembered.  I  trust  your 
La.  will  pardon  me  in  writing  plainly  and  truly,  although 
it  be  both  bluntly  and  tediously.  I  met  my  L.  at 
Bolsover  yesterday  about  one  of  the  clock,  who  at  the 
very  first  was  rather  desirous  to  hear  from  hence  than 
to  enquire  of  Killingworth.  Quoth  he,  *  Gilbert,  what 
talk  had  my  wife  with  you  ? '  *  Marry,  my  L.,'  quoth  1, 
*  it  hath  pleased  her  to  talk  with  me  once  or  twice  since 
my  coming,  but  the  matter  she  most  spoke  of  is  no  small 
discomfort  for  me  to  understand.'  Then  he  was  very 
desirous  and  bade  me  tell  him  what.  I  began  :  *  Truly, 
Sir,  with  as  grieved  a  mind  as  ever  I  saw  woman  in  my 
life,  she  told  me  your  L.  was  vehemently  offended  with 
her,  in  such  sort,  and  with  so  many  words  and  shows  in 
your  anger  of  evil  will  towards  her,  as  thereby  your  L. 
said  you  could  not  but  seem  doubtful  that  all  his  wonted 
love  and  affection  is  clean  turned  to  the  contrary  ;  for 
your  L.  further  said,  you  had  given  him  no  cause  at  all 
to  be  offended.'  You  hearing  that  your  embroiderers 
were  kept  out  of  the  Lodge  from  their  beds  by  John 
Dickenson's  command  said  to  my  L.  these  words  in  the 
morning,  *  Now  did  you  give  command  that  the  em- 
broiderers should  be  kept  out  of  the  Lodge  ? '  and  my 
L.  answered  *  No.'  '  Then,'  quoth  your  La.,  *  they 
were  kept  from  their  beds  there  yesternight ;  and  he 
that  did  so  said  John  Dickenson  had  given  that  express 
command.*     Which  my  L.  said  was  a  lie.     And  he  said 


IH  f '.i,yll(.|-    'riM.llOl 


m 


vm 


From  a  photo  by  Richard  Keene,  Ltd.,  Derby,  after  the  picture  at  Hardwick  Hall 
By  permission  0/  his  Grace  the  Duke  0/  Devonshire 


GEORGE   TALBOT,   SIXTH   EARL  OF   SHREWSBURY 


Page  202 


THE   DIVIDED   WAY  203 

it  was  utterly  untrue.  And  so  I  would  have  gone  on 
to  have  told  the  rest ;  how  your  La.  willed  him  to 
enquire  whether  they  were  not  in  this  manner  kept 
out  or  no  :  but  his  proceeding  into  vehement  cholcr 
and  hard  speeches  he  cut  me  off,  saying  it  was  to  no 
purposs  to  hear  any  recital  of  this  matter,  for  if  he 
listed  he  said  he  could  remember  cruel  speeches  your  La. 
used  to  him,  *  which  were  such  as,'  quoth  he,  *  I  was 
forced  to  tell  her,  she  scolded  like  one  that  came  from 
the  Bank.^  Then,  Gilbert,'  said  he,  *  judge  whether  I 
had  cause  or  not.  Well,'  quoth  he,  *  I  will  speak  no 
more  of  this  matter:  but  she  hath  such  a  sort  of  varlets 
about  her  as  never  ceaseth  carrying  tales ' ;  and  then 
uttered  cruel  words  against  Owen  chiefly  and  the  em- 
broiderers, over  long  to  trouble  your  La.  with.  So 
being  alighted  from  his  horse  all  this  while,  said,  '  Let 
us  get  up  and  be  gone  ;  and  I  shall  have  enough  to  do 
when  I  come  home.'  Then  quoth  I,  *  I  think  my  La. 
be  at  Chatsworth  by  this  time.'  *  What  ! '  quoth  he, 
*  is  she  gone  from  Shefl^eld  .'' '  I  answered,  *By  nine  of 
the  clock.'  Whereupon  he  seemed  to  marvel  greatly, 
and  said,  *  Is  her  malice  such  that  she  would  not  tarry 
one  night  for  my  coming  ? '  I  answered  that  your  La. 
told  me  that  he  was  contented  at  your  first  coming  you 
should  go  as  yesterday  :  which  he  swore  he  never  heard 
of.  *  Then,'  quoth  I,  *  my  La.  further  told  me  that 
when  your  L.  was  contented  for  her  departure  that  day, 
he  said  that  he  had  business  in  the  Peake  and  would 
shortly  come  thither,  and  lie  at  Chatsworth.'  Quoth 
he,  '  Her  going  away  thus  giveth  me  small  cause  to 
come  to  Chatsworth,'  but  answered  not  whether  he 
said  so  or  not.     But   I  assure  your  La.    before   God, 

^  The  mouth  of  a  coal-pit. 


204  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

he  was  and  is  greatly  offended  with  your  going  hence 
yesterday. 

"  After  he  had  seen  all  his  grounds  about  Bolsover, 
and  was  coming  into  the  way  homewards,  he  began  with 
me  again  saying  that  all  the  house  might  discern  your 
Ladyship's  stomach  against  him  by  your  departure 
before  his  coming.  I  answered  beside  what  I  said 
before,  that  your  La.  said  you  had  very  great  and  earnest 
business  as  well  at  Chatsworth  for  your  things  there, 
as  to  deal  with  certain  freeholders  for  Sir  Thomas 
Stanhope,  but  he  allowed  not  any  reason  or  cause,  but 
was  exceeding  angry  for  the  same.  Whereupon  I  spake 
at  large  which  I  beseech  your  La.  to  pardon  my  tedious- 
ness  in  repeating  thereof,  or  at  least  the  most  thereof. 
Quoth  I,  *  I  pray  your  L.  give  leave  to  tell  you  plainly 
what  I  gathered  by  my  Lady.  I  see  she  is  so  grieved  and 
vexed  in  mind  as  I  protest  to  God  1  never  saw  any 
woman  more  in  my  life  ;  and  after  she  told  me  how 
without  any  cause  at  all  your  L.  uttered  most  cruel  and 
bitter  speeches  against  her,  when  she  all  the  while  never 
uttered  any  undutiful  word,  and  had  particularly  im- 
parted the  whole  matter,  she  plainly  declared  unto  me 
that  she  thought  your  L.  heart  was  withdrawn  from 
her,  and  all  your  affection  and  love  to  hate  and  evil 
will  *  :  saying  that  you  took  it  as  your  cross  that  so 
contrary  to  your  deservings  he  adjudged  of  you, 
applinge  ^  the  manifold  shows  which  you  so  indefinitely 
have  made  proof ;  and  so  forgot  no  earnest  protestations 
that  your  La.  pleased  to  utter  to  me  of  your  dear 
affection  and  love  to  him  both  in  health  and  sickness, 
taking  it  upon  your  soul  that  you  wished  his  griefs  were 
on  yourself  to  disburden  and  quit  him  of  [them]. 

^   Probably  "detaiJing  "  or  "appealing  to." 


THE   DIVIDED   WAY  205 

"  And  quoth  I,  *  My  L.,  when  she  told  me  of  this  her 
dear  love  towards  you,  and  now  how  your  L.  hath 
requited  her,  she  was  in  such  perplexity  as  I  never  saw 
woman '  :  and  concluded,  that  your  La.  speech  was  that 
now  you  know  he  thought  himself  most  happy  when 
you  were  absent  from,  and  most  unhappy  when  you 
were  with  him.  And  this,  I  assure  your  La.,  he  heeded  ; 
and  although  I  cannot  say  his  very  word  was  that  he  had 
injured  and  wronged  you,  yet  both  by  his  countenance 
and  words  it  plainly  showed  the  same,  and  [he]  answered, 
*  I  know,'  quoth  he,  *  her  love  hath  been  great  to  me  : 
and  mine  hath  been  and  is  as  great  to  her  :  for  what  can 
a  man  do  more  for  his  wife  than  I  have  done  and  daily 
do  for  her  .? '  And  so  reckoned  at  large,  your  La.  may 
think  with  the  most,  what  he  hath  given  and  bestowed. 
Whereunto  I  could  not  otherwise  reply  than  thus. 
Quoth  I,  *  My  L.,  she  were  to  blame  if  she  considered 
not  these  things  :  but  I  gather  plainly  by  her  speech  to 
me  that  she  thinketh  notwithstanding  that  your  heart  is 
hardened  against  her,  as  I  have  once  or  twice  already 
told  your  Lordship,  and  that  you  love  them  that  love 
not  her,  and  believe  those  about  you  which  hateth  her.' 
And  at  your  departure  I  said  that  your  La.  told  me 
that  you  verily  thought  my  L.  was  gladder  of  your 
absence  than  presence.  Wherein,  I  assure  your  La.,  he 
deeply  protested  the  contrary  :  and  said,  *  Gilbert,  you 
know  the  contrary  ;  and  how  often  I  have  cursed  the 
buildings  at  Chatsworth  for  want  of  her  company  :  but 
[quoth  he]  you  see  she  careth  not  for  my  company  by 
going  away.  I  would  not  have  done  so  to  her.  .  .  . ' 
But  after  this  he  talked  not  much  ;  but  I  know  it  pinched 
him,  and  on  my  conscience  I  think  so  ;  but  what  effects 
will  follow  God  knoweth. 


2o6  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

"  I  will  write  again  to  your  La.  what  I  find  by  him 
this  day  ;  for  yesternight  having  not  talked  with  any 
but  myself,  I  know  that  his  heart  desireth  reconcilia- 
tion if  he  wist  which  way  to  bring  it  to  pass.  Living 
God  grant  it,  and  make  his  heart  turn  to  your  comfort 
in  all  things. 

**  To-morrow  he  will  send  me  to  Derby  about  Sir 
Thomas  Stanhope's  matter.  I  most  humbly  beseech 
your  La.  blessing  to  me  and  mine.  George  rejoiced  so 
greatly  yesternight  at  my  L.  coming  home,  as  I  could 
not  have  believed  if  1  had  not  seen  it.  Sunday  at  nine 
of  the  clock.  For  God's  sake,  Madame,  pardon  my 
very  tedious  and  evil  favoured  scribbling. 

"Your  La.  most  humble  and  obedient  loving  son, 

"  Gilbert  Talbot." 

"The  hasty  letter  from  Sir  John  Constable  was  to 
advertise  that  there  are  two  Scots  that  travel  with  linen 
cloths  to  sell,  that  gave  letters  of  importance  to  this 
Queen  :  one  of  them  is  brother  to  Curie.  My  L. 
Huntington's  letter  was  refusal  of  land  that  my  L. 
offered  him  to  sell." 

"  What  effects  will  follow  God  knoweth  !  "  Certainly 
1577  was  an  unhappy  year  for  the  house  of  Shrewsbury. 
"  This  world,"  as  Lord  Leicester  says  in  one  of  his 
letters  to  the  great  Earl,  "  is  wholly  given  to  reports  and 
bruits  of  all  sorts."  And  these  conjugal  bickerings,  as 
the  Earl  foresaw,  would  beget  reports  which,  added  to  the 
"  bruits  "  he  had  to  face  almost  daily  anent  his  prisoner, 
would  certainly  crush  him  and  his  wife.  For  the 
present  the  latter  rumours  were  reviving  in  such  force 
that  he  could  not  stop  to  think  of  his  private  affairs. 
In  his  letter  to  his  wife — the  first  letter  quoted  in  this 


THE   DIVIDED   WAY  207 

chapter — he  had  alluded  to  one  of  these  "  bruits,"  and 
his  apprehensions  naturally  made  him  greatly  desire  the 
companionship  of  his  Bess. 

These  rumours  were  no  laughing  matter.  AiFairs 
in  the  Netherlands  were  now  complicating  England's 
foreign  policy,  and  the  rumour  of  the  wooing  of  Mary 
of  Scotland  by  the  gallant  Don  John  of  Austria  caused 
all  sorts  of  suspicions  of  her  release.  For  this  audacious 
and  foolhardy  soldier  had  projected  a  programme  of 
exploits  which  included  the  subjugation  of  the  Low 
Countries,  the  conquest  of  England,  and,  through 
Mary,  the  sovereignty  over  it  and  the  restoration  of  the 
Romish  faith.  My  Lord  Treasurer  promptly  indited 
the  following  to  Mary's  gaoler  : — 

*'  My  very  good  Lord, 

"  I  cannot  but  continue  my  thanks  for  all  your 
liberal  courtesies,  praying  your  Lordship  to  assure 
yourself  of  my  poor  but  yet  assured  friendship  while  I 
live.  At  my  coming  to  the  Court  I  found  such  alarm 
by  news  directly  written  from  France,  and  from  the 
Low  Countries,  of  the  Queen  of  Scots'  escape,  either 
already  made  or  very  shortly  to  be  attempted,  as  (surely 
knowing,  as  I  did,  your  circumspection  in  keeping  of 
her,  and  hearing  all  things  in  that  country  about  you 
very  quiet,  and  free  from  such  dangers)  I  was  bold  to 
make  small  account  of  the  news,  although  her  Majesty, 
and  the  Council  here,  were  therewith  perplexed.  And 
though  time  doth  try  these  news  for  anything  already 
done  false,  yet  the  noise  thereof,  and  the  doubt  that  her 
Majesty  halts  for  secret  hidden  practices,  to  be  wrought 
rather  by  corruption  of  some  of  yours  whom  you  shall 
trust  than  by  open  force,  moveth  her  Majesty  to  warn 


2o8  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

your  Lordship,  as  she  said  she  would  write  to  your 
Lordship  that  you  continue,  or  rather  increase,  your 
vigilancy  .  .  .  ;  and  as  I  think  your  Lordship  hath 
carried  your  charge  to  Chatsworth,  so  I  think  that  house 
a  very  meet  bourn  for  good  preservation  thereof; 
having  no  town  of  resort  where  any  ambushes  .  .  , 
may  lie." 

Shrewsbury  had  removed  Mary  to  Chatsworth  during 
the  late  summer  of  1577,  and  his  motive  in  applying 
for  leave  to  do  so  was  apparently  not  unmixed  with  an 
earnest  desire  for  that  "  reconciliation  "  at  which  Gilbert 
hinted.  There  was,  besides,  a  very  potent  reason  for 
the  rapprochement  of  husband  and  wife.  On  Gilbert  and 
Mary  Talbot  great  sorrow  had  fallen.  The  adored 
baby  son  George,  the  *'lytell  fellow,"  died  suddenly. 
The  Earl  tells  it  to  Burghley.  He  writes  from  Sheffield 
briefly,  incoherently.  The  loss  hits  him  very  hard,  and 
he  acknowledges  that  this  child  is  his  best  beloved,  the 
Queen's  Majesty  only  excepted.  In  fear  of  the  effi^ct 
of  the  blow  upon  his  excitable  wife  he  suggests  that 
Burghley's  reply  and  condolences  should  be  addressed 
to  her,  and  so  help  to  "  rule  "  and  control  her. 

"  My  very  good  Lord, — When  it  pleased  God  of 
His  goodness  yesternight  a  little  before  supper  to  visit 
suddenly  my  dearest  jewel  under  God  next  to  my 
Sovereign,  with  mortality  of  sickness,  and  that  it  hath 
pleased  God  of  his  goodness  to  take  that  sweet  babe 
from  me,  he  surely  was  a  toward  child.  I  thought  it 
rather  by  myself  than  by  common  report  you  should 
understand  it  from  me,  that  though  it  nips  me  near,  yet 
the  fear  I  have  of  God  and  the  dutiful  care  to  discharge 


THE   DIVIDED   WAY  209 

my  duty  and  trust  my  mistress  puts  me  in,  makes  me 
now  that  he  is  gone  to  put  away  needless  care  and  to 
look  about  me  that  I  am  put  in  trust  withal — and,  my 
Lord,  because  I  doubt  my  wife  will  show  more  folly  than 
need  requires,  I  pray  your  Lordship  write  your  letter  to 
her,  which  I  hope  will  greatly  rule  her.  So  wishing  to 
your  Lordship  perfect  health,  I  take  my  leave.  Sheffield, 
1 2th  of  August,  1577. 

"  Your  Lordship's  assured  friend, 

"  G.  Shrewsbury."* 

To  Walsingham  the  Earl  also  announces  this  news, 
adding,  "  Howbeit,  I  do  not  willingly  obey  unto  His 
will  who  took  him,  who  only  lent  him  me,  without 
grudging  thereat ;  but  my  wife  (although  she  acknow- 
ledge no  less)  is  not  so  well  able  to  rule  her  passions, 
and  hath  driven  herself  into  such  case  by  her  continual 
weeping,  as  it  likes  to  breed  in  her  further  inconveni- 
ence." Wherefore  he  is  particularly  anxious  to  join  her 
at  Chatsworth,  and  begs  that  the  Queen  shall  be  "  moved" 
for  the  requisite  permission. 

This  visit  was  ended  by  the  beginning  of  November, 
when  Queen  Mary  was  once  more  bundled  back  to 
Sheffield.  At  this  time  she  seems  to  have  been  on  the 
best  of  terms  with  Earl  and  Countess,  and  ready  to  do 
them  every  kindness  in  her  power.  For  instance,  she 
sent  to  France  for  a  bed  for  them.  But  as  this  was  not 
at  the  moment  acceptable  she  mentions  in  a  letter  her 
intention  to  "  fulfil  my  promise  by  another  bed  of  finer 
stuff."  It  came  to  her  knowledge  that  they  required 
half  a  dozen  great  hall  candlesticks  such  as  those  "  made 
at   Crotelles,"    whereupon    she    sent  for  *'  the  largest, 

^  Hunter's  Hallamshire. 


2IO  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

richest,  and  best  made."  These  were  to  be  sent  among 
articles  ordered  by  her  servants,  "  so  that  they  may  create 
no  suspicion." 

It  is  sometimes  hard  to  distinguish  from  her  bribes 
the  presents  Mary  made  out  of  sheer  generosity. 


CHAPTER  XIV 


BRUITS 


TN  a  letter  quoted  in  the  previous  chapter  Lord 
Burghley  had  told  Lord  Shrewsbury  that  the  Queen 
herself  would  write  to  him  on  the  subject  of  the  new- 
old  rumours  about  Mary's  escape.  Elizabeth,  of  course, 
did  write,  and  very  seriously,  about  these  reports  "  from 
sundry  places  beyond  the  sea,"  and  in  that  letter 
(of  September,  1577)  she  gave  her  servant  full  powers 
to  use  his  own  discretion  in  making  things  secure.  But 
by  the  spring  of  1578  she  was  not  quite  so  sure  of  him. 
The  mischief-making  at  Court  had  done  its  usual  work. 
The  Queen  was  very  cruelly  placed  always  between  two 
parties — Mary's  friends  and  Mary's  enemies.  To  all,  as 
her  courtiers,  she  must  preserve  a  certain  show  of  grace 
and  unswerving  discretion,  holding  always  the  balance 
between  the  Argus-eyed  alertness  of  the  first  and  the 
many-winged  suspicions  of  the  last.  These  suspicions 
were  often  grossly  exaggerated.  There  were  some  at 
least  who  desired  the  prisoner's  freedom,  but  not  her 
usurpation  of  the  English  throne  and  a  third  religious 
revolution.  On  the  other  hand,  there  were  men,  who, 
though  powerful  under  Elizabeth,  could  quickly  have 
transferred  their  allegiance  to  the  other  sovereign. 
Again,  at  all  hours  "  posts  "  from  various  ports  could 
bring  in  secret  information  under  the  excellently  in- 
clusive system  organised  by  Elizabeth's  chief  adviser. 

211 


212  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

Tugged  this  way  and  that  in  her  fears  for  the  stability 
of  the  kingdom,  and  at  times  driven  to  a  pitch  of  intense 
alarm,  the  Queen's  confidence  in  the  capacity  of  the 
Earl  at  Sheffield  varied  according  to  the  tales  poured 
into  her  ear. 

A  crisis  of  this  kind  had  been  slowly  brewing  since 
the  autumn,  till  in  the  opening  of  this  year  it  was 
actually  decided  to  remove  Mary  to  Leicestershire,  and 
place  her  under  the  roof  and  guard  of  Lord  Huntingdon. 
Everything  was  arranged,  even  down  to  the  despatch 
of  the  usual  warnings  to  the  surrounding  officials  of  the 
counties  through  which  the  Scots  Queen  must  pass. 
And  then — the  usual  hitch.  Shrewsbury,  of  course, 
scented  trouble  and  disgrace,  and  before  definite  orders 
could  reach  him  as  to  the  change,  he  wrote  to  the 
Queen  :  "  To  answer  somewhat,"  he  rightly  says,  "  in 
this  letter  is  part  of  my  duty,  lest  my  silence  should 
breed  suspicion."  And  no  wonder  !  For  "  I  am  in- 
formed that  there  are  reports  .  .  .  that  I  am  too  much 
at  the  devotion  of  this  lady,  and  so  the  less  to  be 
trusted,  and  that  it  was  considered  better  to  dispose  her 
elsewhere  out  of  my  custody,  to  my  dishonour  and 
disgrace."  He  pleads  stoutly,  as  always,  for  the  re- 
cognition of  his  single-heartedness  and  loyalty.  He 
desires  only  "  to  be  acquitted  of  blame  by  the  Queen's 
own  goodness."  He  challenges  her  equity  and  good 
faith  :  "  I  presume  with  your  favour  not  to  excuse 
myself,  but  to  be  cleared  thereof  by  your  own  just 
judgment." 

He  points  out  that  had  he  desired  to  espouse 
Mary's  cause  he  might  have  done  so  far  earlier  in  the 
day  : — 

"  When  her  liberty  was  sought,  and  her  case  pleaded 


"BRUITS"  213 

with  sword  in  hand,  herself  in  force  enough  as  she 
supposed  to  achieve  her  highest  enterprise,  if  any  hope 
had  been  to  her  of  my  inclination  that  way  I  might 
have  had  an  office  at  her  hand  with  little  reward  as  the 
greatest  traitor  they  had,  and  been  offered  golden  moun- 
tains." But  even  Mary,  as  he  points  out,  knows  her 
ground,  and  would  not  attempt  to  approach  him  :  "  She 
was  without  hope  of  me  and  durst  reveal  nothing  to 
me."  He  hates  the  notion  of  any  upheaval  in  the 
realm  :  "A  change  bringeth  nothing  but  destruction 
of  him  that  desireth  it." 

The  Queen,  after  her  usual  custom  after  writing  a 
letter  of  admonition,  softened  it  down  by  a  kind  and 
rather  contradictory  little  message,  to  which  he  alludes 
in  a  postscript :  "  Thanks  for  your  gracious  messages  by 
my  son  Gylbard,  among  others,  that  I  should  not  credit 
bruits,  but  you  would  be  careful  of  me."  Elizabeth  also 
included  gracious  messages  to  his  "daughter  Lynox  and 
her  child,"  the  which,  he  assured  the  Queen,  were  a 
great  comfort  to  Lady  Shrewsbury. 

For  the  rest,  how  could  the  poor  fellow  help  be- 
lieving "  bruits  "  ?  This  kind  of  gracious  royal  mes- 
sage was  very  well  in  its  way,  but  he  must  have 
known  that  it  amounted  to  nothing.  There  arose, 
as  he  was  well  aware,  other  kinds  of  rumours  concern- 
ing him  and  his  which  were  much  less  mendacious, 
though  they  were  probably  grossly  increased  by  scandal- 
mongers. 

Family  correspondence  has  proved  how  strained  were 
the  conjugal  relations  of  Earl  and  Countess,  and  how 
a  barrier  beginning,  seemingly,  with  a  foundation  no 
less   tangible    than    an   armful    of   tapestries   (but   sub- 


214  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

sequently  solidified  by  the  sheer  masonry  of  Chatsworth) 
had  grown  up  between  them.  All  matters  of  private 
dispute  were  complicated  by  their  own  difficulties  in 
regard  to  the  tenants  of  their  various  estates  and  any 
neighbours  with  whom  they  were  on  bad  terms.  Little 
by  little  the  fact  that  the  house  of  Shrewsbury  was  not 
at  peace  with  itself  must  penetrate  to  the  greater  world. 
Servants  carried  the  news  into  the  county.  If  my  Lord 
blazed  and  my  Lady  retorted  fiercely  and  shrilly,  matters 
could  not  be  kept  within  four  walls.  And  so,  though 
it  belongs  to  a  year  later  than  the  crisis  which  now 
brooded,  a  very  long  letter  is  here  inserted  because 
it  is  so  pertinent  to  the  affairs  of  the  Talbots  and 
Cavendishes.  Without  going  needlessly  into  business 
details  here,  it  must  be  explained  that  all  the  disputes 
with  tenants,  etc.,  to  which  the  letter  alludes,  were 
calculated  from  the  Queen's  point  of  view  to  disaffect 
the  people  in  the  immediate  neighbourhood  of  the  Earl, 
and  give  them  ground  for  opposing  him  and  furthering 
the  cause  of  Mary  merely  out  of  spiteful  motives. 
Certain  tenants  complained,  it  seems,  that  they  had 
been  turned  out  of  properties  leased  to  them  by  the 
Earl,  and  actually  carried  the  matter  up  to  the  Lords 
of  the  Council  for  their  arbitration.  The  Lords  took 
no  violent  action  in  the  matter,  while  the  Earl  denied 
the  charges,  and  brought  countercharge  of  ill-treatment. 
Eventually,  after  correspondence  and  discussion,  the 
Council  discharged  the  complainants  without  punish- 
ment beyond  a  little  admonition  ;  and  after  due  examina- 
tion of  the  man  Higgenbotham  mentioned  in  this  letter, 
decided  that  his  offence  was  exaggerated,  and  recom- 
mended him  to  the  Earl's  clemency.  Eventually  the 
unfortunate  Earl  had  to  give  in  and  reinstate  his  restive 


"BRUITS"  215 

men  of  Glossopdale  in  their  farms,  so  that  his  own 
popularity  might  be  assured  in  order  to  serve  the 
purposes  of  his  Queen. 

The  letter  from  Gilbert  is  addressed  to  "  IMy  Lord, 
my  Father  "  : — 

"  My  duty  most  humbly  remembered,  right  honour- 
able my  singular  good  Lord  and  father.  Your  letters, 
sent  by  my  lacquey  of  the  loth  of  this  May,  I  received 
the  13th,  at  which  time  my  Lord  of  Leicester  was  at 
Wanstead  where  he  yet  remains,  and  therefore  I 
presently  delivered  your  Lordship's  to  the  Queens 
Majesty  to  Mr.  Secretary  Walsingham,  to  be  delivered 
by  him,  the  weather  being  wet  and  rainy  and  therefore 
no  hope  that  her  Majesty  would  walk  or  come  abroad, 
so  as  I  might  deliver  it  myself.  But  whilst  I  stood  by 
he  read  your  Lordship's  letter  to  himself,  the  which  he 
liked  very  well  ;  and  said  that  he  perceived  thereby 
that  your  Lordship  meant  to  deal  well  with  your 
tenants,  whereof  he  was  very  glad,  for  that  he  knew 
also  that  it  would  very  well  content  her  Majesty  ;  but 
very  little  more  speech  he  had  with  me  at  that  time, 
and,  since,  I  hear  that  he  has  delivered  your  Lordship's 
letter  to  her  Majesty,  the  which  she  also  has  taken  in 
very  good  part.  The  other  letter,  to  my  Lord  Leicester, 
I  sent  forthwith  to  him  to  Wanstead,  but  he  returns 
not  till  to-morrow,  having  been  there  all  this  week  ; 
and  I  hear  nothing  from  him  thereof.  I  likewise 
delivered  your  Lordship's  letter  to  my  Lord  Treasurer, 
who  liked  it  very  well  ;  and  said  that  he  was  very  glad 
that  your  Lordship  took  his  plain  dealing  with  you  in 
his  letter  in  so  good  part.  And  thus  this  tragedy  I 
hope  is  at  an   end,  until   the   coming   up   of  Higgen- 


2i6  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

botham,  with  such  proofs  as  your  Lordship  shall  send 
against  him. 

"  We  have  had  no  little  ado  with  these  unreasonable 
people  of  Ashford,  whereof  this  bearer  can  inform  your 
Lordship  at  length  ;  but  now  they  are  all  returned  back 
again,  and  none  of  those  letters  that  were  sent  up  to 
the  Council,  or  any  other  concerning  that  matter,  were 
delivered,  but  sent  down  to  my  Lady  again  ;  yet  it  was 
thought  good  that  I  should  make  my  Lord  of  Leicester 
privy  to  the  coming  of  these  persons  ;  the  which  1  did 
the  same  day  that  they  came  to  town  ;  and,  when  I  had 
told  him  at  length  how  the  case  stood,  he  agreed  with 
me  that  it  was  a  plain  practice  ;^  yet,  nevertheless  wished 
that  (if  by  any  means  possible)  we  should  stay  them 
from  complaining  ;  saying,  in  general  words,  that  if 
they  were  not  stayed,  there  would  fall  out  greater  in- 
convenience both  to  your  Lordship  and  my  Lady  than 
you  were  aware  of,  how  false  and  untrue  soever  their 
complaints  were.  But,  before  that,  he  enquired  of  the 
town  where  they  dwelt,  which  when  I  had  described  to 
him,  he  well  remembered,  and  that  he  had  angled  and 
fished  at  the  end  of  that  town  ;  and  said  that  he  thought 
it  belonged  wholly  to  my  Lady  ;  and  asked  whether 
your  Lordship  did  meddle  therewith  or  not.  I 
answered  him  that  your  Lordship  had  wholly  left  it 
to  my  Lady,  to  use  at  her  pleasure,  and  was  not  privy 
that  her  Ladyship  dealt  therewith.  *  Well,'  quoth  he, 
*  but  for  all  that  assure  yourself  that  whosoever  set 
these  varlets  and  the  others  on,  had  no  less  evil  mean- 
ing towards  my  Lord  than  my  Lady  ;  for  there  is  no 
difference  made,  neither  in  the  Queen's  opinion  nor  any 
others  but  whatsoever  concerns  one  of  them,  touches 

^  That  is,  clearly  a  plot  against  Shrewsbury. 


"BRUITS"  217 

them  both  alike  ;  and  yet,*  quoth  he,  *  I  never  heard 
of  any  practice  for  the  removing  of  my  Lordship's 
charge,  but,  amongst  other  things,  this  was  ever  one  : 
that  there  was  no  good  agreement  betwixt  my  Lord  and 
my  Lady  :  and  that  it  was  informed,  both  to  the  Queen 
and  others,  that  there  was  a  secret  division  between 
your  doings,  and,'  quoth  he,  *  if  it  were  known  I 
verily  believe  the  same  has  now  been  informed,  and  it 
is  not  long  since  I  heard  it,  when  I  am  assured  that 
there  never  was  any  such  thing;  but,'  quoth  he,  *by 
the  Eternal  God,  if  they  could  ever  bring  the  Queen  to 
believe  it  that  there  were  jars  betwixt  them,  she  would 
be  in  such  a  fear  as  it  would  sooner  be  the  cause  of  the 
removing  of  my  Lordship's  charge  than  any  other 
thing  ;  for  I  think  verily,'  quoth  he,  *  she  could  never 
sleep  quietly  after,  as  long  as  that  Queen  remained  with 
them '  ;  and,  next  to  this  it  troubles  the  Queen  most 
when  she  hears  that  you  are  not  so  well  beloved  of 
your  tenants  as  she  would  wish,  which  was  the  cause 
of  her  late  earnest  letter,  '  the  which,'  quoth  he,  *  I 
could  not  stay  if  my  life  had  lain  thereon.  Well,' 
quoth  he,  '  I  am  glad  all  these  former  matters  are  so 
well  satisfied  ;  and,  to  conclude,'  quoth  he,  *  I  pray  God 
that  my  Lord  and  Lady  have  none  but  faithful  and  true 
servants  about  them,  and  that  none  of  them  do,  by 
indirect  means,  cause  it  to  be  informed  sometimes 
hither  that  there  are  mislikes  or  disagreements  betwixt 
them  when  there  are  none  at  all.'  I  leave  to  write  unto 
your  Lordship  my  answers  to  many  of  these  his  Lord- 
ship's speeches,  for  they  would  be  too  long  ;  and  your 
Lordship  may  think  that  either  I  answered  according  to 
my  duty,  and  to  the  truth,  or  else  I  forgot  myself  over- 
much.    All  this  speech  I  had  with  him  before  he  went 


2i8  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

to  Wanstead,  which  is  five  days  since.  The  secret 
opinion  is  now  that  the  matter  of  Monseigneur's^ 
coming  and  especially  the  marriage,  is  grown  very 
cold,  and  Simier  like  shortly  to  go  over  ;  and  yet  I 
know  a  man  may  take  a  thousand  pounds  in  this  town, 
to  be  bound  to  pay  double  so  much  when  Monseigneur 
comes  into  England  and  treble  so  much  when  he 
marries  the  Queen's  Majesty,  and  if  he  neither  do  the 
one  nor  the  other,  to  gain  the  thousand  pound  clear. 
This  is  all  the  news  that  I  hear.  And  thus,  my  wife 
and  I,  most  humbly  beseeching  your  Lordship's  daily 
blessings,  with  our  wonted  prayer,  upon  our  knees,  for 
your  long  continuance  in  all  honour,  most  perfect 
health,  and  long  long  life,  I  cease. 

"At  your  Lordship's  little  house  near  Charing  Cross, 
this  present  Friday,  late  at  night,  15th  of  May,  1579. 
"  Your  Lordship's  most  humble  and 

obedient  loving  son, 

"Gilbert  Talbot. 

"  I  wish  it  would  please  your  Lordship  to  remember 
my  Lord  Chancellor  with  some  gift.  It  would  be  very 
well  bestowed." 

Thus,  because  of  the  possibility  of  larger  treasons, 
the  warder  of  Mary  of  Scotland  and  his  family  must 
needs  swallow  their  private  grievances,  forgive  their 
truculent  tenants,  and  appear  wreathed  with  smiles. 
They  must  maintain  their  estate,  in  spite  of  their 
increasing  liabilities  and  the  churlishness  of  the  Royal 

'  The  Duke  of  Anjou,  Elizal^th's  new  suitor,  whom  she  called  her 
"  Frogg,"  while  his  ambassador,  Simier,  who  so  nearly,  in  his  own 
opinion,  secured  for  his  master  the  bride  of  his  ambitions,  was  known  at 
Court  as  the  "  Monkey." 


"BRUITS"  219 

Exchequer,  and  above  all  they  must  keep  my  Lord 
Treasurer  well  supplied  with  douceurs. 

Why  they  did  not  sell  a  portion  of  their  vast 
inheritance  at  this  juncture  in  order  to  make  matters 
comfortable  one  cannot  understand.  In  London  the 
Earl's  creditors  were  pressing  him,  and  he  was  too 
conscientious  to  let  the  matter  stand  longer  than 
avoidable. 

A  new  responsibility  was  about  to  be  thrust  on 
the  Talbots  in  securing  the  hereditary  rights  of  their 
grandchild  Arabella.  For  the  Dowager  Lady  Lennox 
died  in  this  year  quite  suddenly  at  her  house  at 
Hackney.  It  was  odd  that  the  guest  who  last  saw 
her  was  the  man  whom  she  had  accused  of  slaying 
his  wife,  and  whose  treachery  she  had  once  denounced. 
Lord  Leicester  went  down  to  talk  business  with  her 
at  Hackney,  relating,  no  doubt,  to  the  sorry  state 
of  her  financial  affairs,  and  stayed  to  dine  with  her. 
Just  after  he  left  she  was  taken  violently  ill,  and  died 
two  days  later.  What  she  had  to  bequeath — and 
Heaven  knows  it  was  little  enough — in  the  way  of 
jewels  she  left  to  Arabella  Stuart.  With  the  death 
of  her  son,  Lennox,  the  ties  which  bound  her  to 
life  practically  disappeared,  and  she  succumbed  at 
the  age  of  sixty-seven  to  a  disease  which  must  have 
been  aggravated  by  the  terrible  misfortunes  of  her 
extraordinary  life.  Her  own  dowry  of  Scottish  lands 
made  her  no  return  because  of  the  war-bound  con- 
dition of  her  native  country  ;  the  sons  who  owned 
the  estates  conferred  on  her  husband  by  Henry  VIII 
were  all  dead.  Her  land  in  Yorkshire  passed  from 
her  with  the  death,  one  presumes,  of  her  last  son, 
and    her    fatherless   granddaughter    was,    as    Strickland 


220  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

says,  "  heiress  to  nought  but  sorrow  and  a  royal  pedi- 
gree." 

It  was  evident  that  a  push  must  be  made  to  protect 
the  rights  of  the  child.  Queen  Mary  herself  sent  for 
the  old  lady's  jewels  on  behalf  of  her  little  niece,  but 
on  the  other  hand  she  urged  her  son's  guardians  to 
put  forward  his  claims.  This  was  not  with  a  view 
to  destroying  the  chances  of  Arabella,  but  merely  to 
assert  his  family  rights,  lest  he  should  be  regarded 
as  a  foreigner.  A  counterblast  to  this  was  the  action 
of  Elizabeth,  who  took  the  child  under  her  protection. 
This  fulfilled  the  heart's  desire  of  Elizabeth  Shrewsbury. 
Yet  it  did  not  avail  her  much.  The  right  to  do  as 
he  chose  with  the  earldom  was  by  young  James, 
under  the  influence  of  his  nobles,  claimed  for  Scot- 
land, and  he  was  made  to  grant  the  earldom  to  the 
Bishop  of  Caithness,  a  man  advanced  in  years  and 
without  heir,  chosen  purposely  for  present  convenience 
until  another  Stuart — Esm6  Stuart,  Lord  d'Aubigny, 
should  claim  it.  Lord  and  Lady  Shrewsbury  wrote 
in  deprecation  to  Lord  Leicester  on  the  subject,  en- 
treating Elizabeth's  intervention  :  ^  "  Unless  the  Queen 
will  write  in  most  earnest  sort  to  the  King  of  Scotland 
on  her  little  ward's  behalf  ...  we  cannot  but  be  in 
some  despair.  .  .  .  The  Bishop  of  Caithness  ...  is 
an  old  sickly  man  without  a  child  ;  and  I  think  it 
is  done  that  D'Aubigny,  being  in  France  and  the  next 
heir  male,  should  succeed  him.  My  wife  says  that 
the  old  Lord  Lennox  told  her  long  ago  of  D'Aubigny's 
seeking  to  prevent  the  infant." 

Subsequently  Mary  declined  to  open  any  negotiations 
with  Esm^  Stuart  in  her  own  affairs,  both  because  she 

*  Leader. 


"BRUITS"  221 

did  not  trust  him  and  because  she  was  desirous  not 
to  give  offence  to  "  our  right  well-beloved  cousin, 
Elizabeth,  Countess  of  Shrewsbury."  This  is  proof 
enough  that  her  first  move  in  regard  to  the  matter  had 
been  one  of  pure  policy  and  was  to  be  regarded  as  quite 
apart  from  her  private  sentiments.  It  were  well  if  she 
had  never  sent  the  recommendation. 

Other  rumours  of  the  moment  gathered  special  force, 
and  were  perhaps  of  more  importance  to  the  nation  at 
large  than  was  the  possible  escape  of  Mary.  They  were 
rumours  of  the  Queen's  marriage.  Anjou's  wooing  was 
a  long  business.  It  lasted  over  nine  years.  Elizabeth 
was  just  now  revelling  in  rather  a  skittish  mood  in  spite 
of  the  wild  "  bruits  "  about  her  health.  It  was  said  that 
she  was  threatened  with  epilepsy  ;  at  all  events  she 
could  enjoy  herself,  and  receive  fantastic  love  letters, 
while  she  shortened  the  leash  by  which  she  held  Mary, 
and  docked  her  of  any  semblance  of  liberty.  It  did  not 
seem  to  depress  the  Virgin  Queen  that  her  royal  suitor 
was  only  twenty.  She  always  pretended  great  coyness 
towards  all  gentlemen,  and  there  is  an  odd  touch  in  the 
way  she  scolded  Gilbert  Talbot  for  inadvertently  gazing 
upon  her  in  her  early  morning  deshabille  as  she  stood  at 
a  casement. 

"  On  May  Day  I  saw  her  Majesty,  and  it  pleased  her 
to  speak  to  me  very  graciously.  In  the  morning  about 
eight  o'clock  I  happened  to  walk  in  the  Tiltyard,  under 
the  gallery  where  her  Majesty  used  to  stand  to  see  the 
running  at  tilt  ;  where  by  chance  she  was,  and  looking 
out  of  the  window,  my  eye  was  full  towards  her,  she 
showed  to  be  greatly  ashamed  thereof,  for  that  she  was 
unready,  and  in  her  night  stuff;  so  when  she  saw  me 


222  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

after  dinner,  as  she  went  to  walk,  she  gave  me  a  great  fillip 
on  the  forehead,  and  told  my  Lord  Chamberlain,  who 
was  the  next  to  her,  how  I  had  seen  her  that  morning, 
and  how  much  ashamed  she  was.  And,  after,  I  presented 
unto  her  the  remembrance  of  your  Lordship's  and  my 
Ladyship's  bounden  duty  and  service;  and  said  that  you 
both  thought  yourselves  most  bounden  to  her  for  her 
most  gracious  dealing  towards  your  daughter  my  Lady 
of  Lennox  ;  and  that  you  assuredly  trusted  in  the  con- 
tinuance of  her  favourable  goodness  to  her  and  her 
daughter.  And  she  answered  that  she  always  found 
you  more  thankful  than  she  gave  cause.  .  .  ." 

That  last  sentence  rings  with  ironical  truth.  As  they 
read  it  Earl  and  Countess  might  well  merge  their  differ- 
ences and  smile  unanimously — a  somewhat  bitter  smile  ! 


CHAPTER   XV 

RUTH    AND    JOYUSITIE 

*"  I  ''HE  dashing  suitor  of  Mary  of  Scotland,  Don  John 
of  Austria,  was  dead.  Her  rival  was  on  the  edge 
of  a  marriage  with  a  son  of  Mary's  stoutest  champion — 
France.  It  was  a  bad  moment  for  the  prisoner.  It 
was  not  a  pleasant  time  for  the  Talbots.  Life  at  Shef- 
field could  be  varied  only  by  letters  from  Gilbert,  though 
his  parents  must  to  some  extent  have  been  cheered  by 
the  prospect  of  his  speedily  having  another  heir.  His 
wife  was  attended  by  no  less  a  person  than  the  famous 
physician  of  my  Lord  of  Leicester,  a  certain  Mr.  Julio, 
who  seems,  on  all  accounts,  to  have  known  a  great  deal 
too  much  about  the  unholy  drugs  which  the  Medici  found 
so  useful,  though  his  skill  as  a  physician  could  not  be 
gainsaid.  Gilbert  Talbot  at  least  seems  flourishing. 
He  is  free  to  come  and  go  ;  he  is  quite  a  "  citizen  of 
the  world."  He  executes  commissions  for  his  family, 
his  purchases  are  practical,  and  he  is  thoughtful  for  his 
stepmother's  needs.  "  There  are  two  Friesland  horses," 
he  writes,  "  of  a  reasonable  price  for  their  goodness  ; 
I  have  promised  the  fellow  for  them  ;j^33  ;  I  think 
them  especial  good  for  my  Ladyship's  coach  ;  I  will 
send  them  down."  He  despatches  constant  reports  of 
his  wife's  health,  and  of  the  repairs  and  decorations 
which  he  is  superintending  in  "  Shrewsbury  House," 
otherwise   the  Earl's    house    in   "  Broad   Street "   from 

223 


224  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

which  Gilbert  writes.  A  special  ceiling  was  being  de- 
signed for  this,  the  building  was  to  be  newly  glazed, 
and  the  family  coat-of-arms  inserted  in  the  windows  in 
stained  glass.  In  a  postscript  he  heralds  a  private  letter 
from  the  Queen  to  Lady  Shrewsbury,  which  is  not 
forthcoming.  "  My  Lord,  my  brother^  tarrieth  only 
for  her  Majesty's  letter  to  my  Lady,  which,  she  saith, 
she  will  write  in  her  own  hand,  so  as  nobody  shall  be 
acquainted  with  a  word  therein  till  my  Lady  receive  it. 
I  have  not  seen  her  look  better  a  great  while,  neither 
better  disposed  ;  the  living  God  continue  it." 

The  composition  of  this  young  gentleman  is  always 
rather  vague  and  his  punctuation  hazy.  He  means,  of 
course,  that  it  is  the  Queen  who  is  in  such  good  health 
and  humour.  She  was  very  busy  puzzling  everyone 
over  her  projected  marriage,  and  sketching  Court  enter- 
tainments in  connection  with  it.  Even  while  she  felt 
the  gravity  of  such  a  step  she  would  dally  with  it, 
thrust  away  apparently  all  but  the  lighter  side  of  things. 
She  kept  her  Privy  Council  sitting  "  from  eight  o'clock 
in  the  morning  until  dinner-time  ;  and  presently  after 
dinner,  and  an  hour's  conference  with  her  Majesty's 
Council  again,  and  so  till  supper-time."  All  this  strain 
was  induced,  Gilbert  assures  the  household  at  Sheffield, 
by  "  the  matter  of  Monsigncur  coming  here,  his  enter- 
tainment here,  and  what  demands  are  to  be  made  unto 
him  in  the  treaty  of  marriage  .  .  .  ;  and  I  can  assure 
your  Lordship  it  is  verily  thought  this  marriage  will 
come  to  pass  of  a  great  sort  of  wise  men  ;  yet  neverthe- 
less there  are  divers  others  like  Sr.  Thomas  of  Jude 
who  would  not  believe  till  he  had  both  seen  and  felt. 

^  Evidently  his  elder  brother  Francis  Talbot,  who  was  probably  about 
to  visit  his  parents. 


RUTH   AND   JOYUSITIE  225 

It  is  said  that  Monseigneur  will  certainly  be  here  in 
May  next.  ...  It  is  said  that  he  will  be  accompanied 
with  three  dukes,  ten  earls,  and  a  hundred  other  gentle- 
men." 

The  suitor  came — but  more  or  less  secretly — and  de- 
parted. It  was  not  till  nearly  a  year  later  that  the  cat-and- 
mouse  game  which  Elizabeth  played  with  him  approached 
a  crisis  in  the  shape  of  a  splendid  pageant  at  Whitehall, 
which  she  organised  to  dazzle  the  French  Ambassador, 
and  to  give  the  impression  that  this  affair  was  really  to 
be  accomplished.  Gay  times  those — with  Sir  Philip 
Sidney's  art  and  grace  to  lead  the  pomps  and  cere- 
monies !  Everyone  of  importance  was  invited.  "  Her 
talk,"^  says  a  contemporary  of  Elizabeth,  "was  of 
tournaments  and  balls  ;  her  one  desire  was  that  the 
fairest  ladies  in  England  should  grace  her  Court.  The 
Lords  were  bidden  to  bring  their  families  to  London 
that  there  might  be  the  bustle  of  constant  gaiety.  The 
merchants  were  ordered  to  sell  their  silks,  velvets,  and 
cloth  of  gold  at  a  reduction  of  a  quarter  of  the  ordi- 
nary price  that  more  should  be  induced  to  buy,  and  so 
enhance  the  general  splendour." 

Alack  for  the  Shrewsburys !  No  gay  invitation 
appears  to  have  summoned  them  from  the  wilds  of 
their  county  to  witness  the  famous  pageant  and  the 
battle  of  flowers  and  perfumes  waged  this  year  in  the 
tiltyard  at  Whitehall,  or  applaud  the  splendid  chariot 
of  "  my  Lady  Desire "  and  her  four  gallant  sons,  of 
whom  Sir  Philip  Sidney  personated  one. 

Such  happiness  and  all  that  which  Mary  of  Scotland, 
in  a  letter,  termed  "joyusitie"  was  a  thing  apart  from 
existence    at    Sheffield,    and    she,    who    loved   all    such 

1  Quoted  in  Creighton's  Elizabeth. 
Q 


226  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

fantastical  gaieties,  who  knew  as  much  as  any  of  them 
of  love  practices  and  flowery  games,  who  could  play 
even  with  peasant  folk  like  a  child,  looked  wistfully 
forth  upon  the  world  from  the  leads  of  her  castle-prison 
or  from  the  meadows  close  to  the  Lodge,  its  neighbour. 
From  1579  to  1581  her  affairs  and  those  of  the  Talbots 
are  full  of  small  events,  things  which  kept  them  alert, 
yet  brought  but  little  result.  The  Earl  was  watched 
closely  by  Elizabeth.  He  could  not  even  leave  home 
for  two  days  without  sharp  reprimand,  although  he 
never  absented  himself  for  an  hour  without  knowing 
that  his  prisoner  was  absolutely  secure,  while  his 
servants  kept  him  carefully  informed  of  her  condition. 
One  of  them,  for  example,  by  name  George  Skargelle, 
a  constant  eye-witness  of  the  Shrewsbury  tragi-comedy, 
not  only  reports  upon  the  prisoner,  but  scours  the 
immediate  neighbourhood  to  see  what  is  going  on  : 
"  May  yt  plese  your  honner  to  understand  that  your  L' 
house  is  quyet  and  well,  God  be  pressed  ;  and  the 
Quene  is  sarvet  wth.  her  vetteles  and  wille  plesed  for 
thes  II  dayes."  He  goes  to  the  Castle  gardens  "to  see 
what  stir  there  was  of  your  Lordship's  follkes "  and 
found  certain  fellows  playing  at  dice,  while  in  the  town 
of  Sheffield  he  discovered  other  gamblers  at  cards. 
After  this  he  breaks  a  lance  in  speech  with  his  master's 
truculent  "  bad  tenants  of  Glossopdale,"  whom  he  so 
mistrusted  that  he  gave  information  of  their  presence  to 
the  men  at  the  bridges  and  the  watches,  and  to  the 
owners  of  the  houses  where  the  travellers  lodged.  The 
Queen  heard  of  the  Earl's  absence  (for  there  were 
always  people  ready  to  report  the  least  movement  of  so 
notable  a  county  resident),  and  belaboured  him  in  a 
letter.     He  begged  her  to  allow  him  to  come  to  Court 


RUTH   AND  JOYUSITIE  227 

and  justify  himself.  For  many  reasons  he  longed  to  do 
this.  He  was  weary  of  writing  endless  letters  to  her 
and  to  the  Treasury.  His  personal  debts  weighed  on 
his  conscience,  and  his  enemies  were  always  trying  to 
make  out  that  he  could  not  be  in  any  need  of  supplies 
because  of  his  large  estates.  Big  houses  are  big  thieves, 
and  what  with  his  large  double  family  and  the  costs 
entailed  by  his  position,  even  his  trade  projects — he  was 
among  other  things  an  owner  of  lead  and  exporter  of  it 
— did  not  keep  him  in  sufficient  ready  money  to  main- 
tain all  his  houses  and  fulfil  his  landlord's  liabilities  as 
he  would  have  wished.  He  was  not  personally  an  ex- 
travagant man,  and  displays  none  of  the  magnificent 
tastes  of  his  wife  in  regard  to  his  house  and  person.  He 
declared  that  his  creditors  should  be  satisfied  rather  than 
he  should  use  expensive  household  articles.  "  I  would 
have  you  buy  me  glasses  to  drink  in,"  he  wrote  in  1580 
to  his  servant  Baldwin.  "  Send  me  word  what  old  plate 
yields  the  ounce,  for  I  will  not  leave  me  a  cup  to  drink 
in,  but  I  will  see  the  next  term  my  creditors  paid."  He 
may  have  made  a  special  point  of  this  in  order  that 
Baldwin  should  use  the  statement  as  a  pathetic  plea  when 
making  application  to  the  Treasury  for  payments  due  to 
his  master,  the  main  reason  the  Earl  had  for  keeping  his 
representative  in  London.  He  had  felt  deeply  the  false 
reports  of  his  income  spread  about  by  local  detractors, 
who  were  probably  also  responsible  for  the  statement 
that  he  was  now  keeping  his  prisoner  on  short  commons. 
His  sensations  and  those  of  the  Countess  on  hearing 
of  this  from  Lord  Leicester  can  well  be  imagined.  The 
statement  had  been  handed  on  to  him  by  the  French 
Ambassador  in  London,  and  Leicester  told  him  it  would 
"  much  mislike  her  Majesty." 


228  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

The  accusation  runs  :  "That  your  Lordship  doth  of 
late  keep  the  Scotch  Queen  very  barely  of  her  diet, 
insomuch  as  on  Easter  day  last  she  had  both  so  few 
dishes  and  so  bad  meat  in  them  as  it  was  too  bad  to  see 
it  ;  and  that  she  finding  fault  thereat  your  Lordship 
should  answer  that  you  were  cut  off  your  allowance,  and 
therefore  could  yield  her  no  better." 

And  yet  Shrewsbury  could  forgive  the  Queen's  sus- 
picions and,  tolerably  happy  in  the  birth  of  a  grand- 
daughter, despite  the  fact  that  a  male  heir  to  Gilbert 
would  have  rejoiced  him  far  more,  instructed  his  son 
Francis  to  present  for  him  a  New  Year's  present  to 
Elizabeth. 

Simultaneously  no  time  was  lost,  no  trouble  grudged 
in  worrying  Burghley,  "her  Majesty's  housewife"  as 
the  Earl  rather  ironically  terms  him  in  one  letter,  with 
regard  to  a  settlement  of  the  everlasting  claim  for  "  this 
Queen's  diet."  Indeed,  one  can  only  imagine  that  this 
word  "  diet,"  by  which  the  cost  of  the  board  of  the 
Scottish  Mary  is  always  signified  in  succeeding  cor- 
respondence, must  have  held  in  the  Earl's  mind  and 
heart  the  same  place  as  the  name  of  Calais  in  the  mind 
of  Mary  of  England.  Robert  Beale,  a  clerk  of  the  Privy 
Council  and  personal  friend  of  the  Shrewsburys,  did  his 
best  for  them,  but  despite  his  kindly  despatches — one  of 
which  has  a  pretty  allusion  to  "  my  little  Lady  Favour," 
evidently  Lady  Arabella  Stuart — payment  was  tardy. 
Even  the  scanty  allowance  originally  decided  upon  had 
been  deliberately  reduced  by  royal  order.  For  the 
hundredth  time  he  tackled  anew  the  official  "housewife" 
with  the  words  :  "  I  have  made  suit  to  her  Highness  for 
some  recompense,  in  which  I  do  find  so  cold  comfort 
that  I  am  near  driven  to  despair  to  obtain  anything." 


RUTH    AND   JOYUSITIE  229 

Elsewhere  he  speaks  pathetically  of  "  the  cark  and  care  '* 
which  is  his  portion.  "  My  riches  they  talk  of  are  in  other 
men's  purses,"  he  complains  bitterly  ;  "  God  knows  I 
make  many  shifts  to  keep  me  out  of  debt  and  to  help 
my  children,  which  are  heavy  burdens  though  comfort- 
able, so  long  as  they  do  well.  I  can  say  no  more,  but  I 
have  spies  near  about  me  and  know  them  well." 

At  last,  in  the  August  of  1582,  in  sheer  despair  of 
obtaining  satisfaction,  and  sick  of  employing  intermedi- 
aries, he  wrote  to  the  Queen  : — 

"  May  it  please  your  most  excellent  Majesty, 

"  Having  then  ten  years  been  secluded  from 
your  most  gracious  sight  and  happy  presence,  which 
more  grieveth  me  than  any  travel  or  discommodity  that 
I  have  suffered  in  this  charge  that  it  hath  pleased  your 
Majesty  to  put  me  in  trust  withal,  I  have  taken  the 
boldness  most  humbly  to  beseech  your  Majesty  that  it 
may  please  the  same  to  license  me  for  a  fortnight's 
journey  towards  your  Majesty's  royal  person  ;  to  the 
end  you  may  by  myself  receive  a  true  account  of  my 
said  charge,  and  thereby  know  what  my  deservings  are. 
Wherein,  if  I  may  (as  I  desire  most  earnestly)  satisfy 
your  Majesty,  it  shall  be  unto  me  a  great  encourage- 
ment to  continue  the  most  faithful  duty  and  careful 
service  that  I  owe  unto  your  Majesty,  and  shall  yield  to 
my  life's  end." 

This  permission  was  in  a  fair  way  to  be  granted  as 
far  as  letters  could  show,  and  the  good,  timid,  dogged 
Earl  made  all  arrangements,  settled  the  stages  of  his 
journey,  ordered  bedding  and  lodging,  and  planned  his 
retinue  :  "  I  think  my  company  will  be  twenty  gentle- 
men  and   twenty  yeomen,  besides   their   men   and   my 


230  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

horsekeepers."  He  only  waited  for  his  journey  till 
Chesterfield  Fair  was  over  and  the  crowds  of  suspicious 
loafers  dispersed.  But  he  waited  far  too  long.  The 
plague  had  seized  London  and  had  increased  apace  ;  he 
dreaded  the  cold  journey  south  in  the  autumn  storms; 
he  dreaded  an  aggravated  attack  from  "  the  enemy  " — 
gout. 

Simultaneously  with  this  disappointment  came  sharper 
sorrow — the  death  of  Francis  Talbot.  The  event  pre- 
sented itself  to  Lord  Leicester  as  worthy  of  one  of 
those  flowery,  humbugging,  sententious,  idiotic  letters 
of  which  he  wrote  so  many  in  his  crowded  life.  This 
unscrupulous  idler,  living  on  the  fat  of  the  land  and 
overheaped  with  gifts  and  favours,  presents  a  very  odd 
picture  as  he  conjures  an  afilicted,  upright,  and  over- 
burdened contemporary  to  count  up  his  blessings  : 
"  The  Lord  hath  blessed  you  many  ways  in  this 
world,  and  not  least  with  the  blessing  of  children  for 
your  posterity."  This  from  a  fellow  who  could  disown 
his  legitimate  son  by  denying  a  lawful  marriage  with 
the  mother  I  And  again  :  "  He  that  hath  sent  you 
many  might  have  given  you  fewer,  and  He  that  took 
away  this  might  also  take  away  the  rest.  Be  thankful 
to  Him  for  all  His  doings,  my  good  Lord,  and  take  all 
in  that  good  part  which  you  ought;  be  you  wholly  His, 
and  seek  His  kingdom,  for  it  far  surpasses  all  worldly 
kingdoms."  This  from  the  shrewd  sycophant  who  was 
waiting  day  after  day  to  be  announced  as  consort  of  the 
Queen  of  England  1 

To  return  on  our  paces  a  little.  The  health  of 
Queen  Mary  was  extremely  unsatisfactory.  From  1579 
right  on  through  the  eighties  she  addressed  letter  after 
letter   of  piteous  entreaties  for  freedom   to   Elizabeth, 


RUTH   AND   JOYUSITIE  231 

and  to  the  ambassador  Mauvissiere.  Sometimes,  for 
weeks  at  a  time,  she  could  not  leave  her  bed  owing  to 
the  pain  in  her  side.  Sometimes  the  hardly  won  per- 
mission to  go  to  Buxton  would  revive  her  spirits.  On 
one  occasion  she  fell  backwards  from  her  horse  just  as 
she  was  mounting,  and  injured  herself  severely.  Some- 
times she  was  kept  closely  guarded  at  Buxton,  and 
on  others  she  would  be  allowed  to  see  something  of 
the  country  close  to  it.  In  1577  she  was  so  ailing 
that  she  made  her  will.  But  she  would  revive  to  write 
endless  spirited  letters,  to  plead  incessantly  and  indig- 
nantly against  the  way  in  which  her  French  dowry,  the 
only  income  she  now  had,  was  being  dissipated  and 
misappropriated  in  France,  and  to  make  eager  pre- 
parations for  hunting  expeditions,  to  few  of  which, 
as  she  confessed,  she  expected  Lord  Shrewsbury 
would  give  his  consent.  At  the  end  of  1581  she  was  so 
worn  out  by  secret  suspense  in  regard  to  her  fate,  by 
constraint,  and  by  lack  of  air  and  exercise — the  simple 
remedies  which  in  years  past  had  helped  her  to  conquer 
all  bodily  ills — that  for  once  her  courage  left  her.  She 
begged  for  special  doctors  other  than  those  who  or- 
dinarily attended  her.  She  worked  herself  into  an 
agony  over  the  position  of  her  son,  and  finally  begged 
that  the  Queen  would  send  assistance  to  her  "as  that 
she  might  not  be  cast  away  for  want  of  such  help  of 
physicians  and  things  as  she  needed." 

Robert  Beale,  already  mentioned  in  his  connection 
with  the  Privy  Council,  who  was  really  sent  down  at 
this  juncture  to  Sheffield  to  investigate  the  political 
relationship  between  Mary  and  her  son,  found  the 
household  in  a  depressing  condition.  Lord  Shrewsbury 
had  a  bad  attack  of  gout,  and  though  the  Countess  was 


232  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

not  described  as   ill,   her  frame  of  mind  cannot  have 
been  very  cheerful.     Everyone  seems  to  have  poured 
out  his   woes   in   Beale's  ears,   while    he   stuck  to  his 
purpose,  and  tried   to   secure  a   definite  answer  as   to 
whether  or  no  Mary  would  formally  yield  the  Scottish 
crown  to  her  son.     A  clear  answer  from  her  he  never 
had.     She  was  ill,  hysterical,  and,  to  his  thinking  and 
that  of  the  Earl,  full  of  trickery.     They  believed  that 
she  asked  for  a  special  physician  from  London  because 
it  might  give  her  a  chance  of  carrying  out  some  scheme 
to    her    advantage    in    connection    with    the    Duke    of 
Alengon,  who   was   expected   in   England.     One   night 
when  she  sent  specially  for  Beale  he  arrived  to  find  the 
room  in  sudden  darkness,  and  Mary  in  bed,  with  the 
dim   shadowy  figures  of  her  chamberwomen   hovering 
about  her.     Among  those  shadowy  ladies  in  the  bed- 
chamber was   still  the  devoted  Mary  Seton,  to  whom 
had  come  some  years  previously  ruth  which  her  mis- 
tress also  shared.     Not  only  had  the  loyal  praegustator, 
John  Beton,  died  in  the  earlier  days  of  the  long  im- 
prisonment, but  his  brother  and  successor  in  the  post, 
Andrew,  had  passed  away.     With  Andrew,  who  courted 
her  passionately,  the  Seton  had  at  last  fallen  in   love. 
The  only  barrier  to  their  union  was  a  most  inexplicable 
vow  of  celibacy  which  the  girl  had  taken.     With  the 
approval   of  his    brother,   Archbishop    Beton,  and    the 
encouragement  of  his  royal  mistress,  the  gallant  Andrew 
overcame  his  lady's  dread  of  the  married  estate,  and 
undertook  to  secure  papal  dispensation  from  her  vow. 
It  was  on  his  journey  back  from  Rome  to  Sheffield  that 
he  died. 

Beale,  as  aforesaid,  found  himself  nonplussed  by  the 
gloom  of  the  Queen's  apartments  ;  and  as  for  talking 


RUTH   AND   JOYUSITIE  233 

business  it  was  impossible,  for  she  received  him  with 
sobs. 

Because  of  "her  weeping  and  her  women  in  the 
dark  1  brake  off,"  he  wrote  to  Walsingham,  He  went 
away  and  reported  this  uncanny  interview  to  the  Earl, 
who  sent  his  lady  to  her.  Mary  was  asleep  or  sham- 
ming, and  all  Lady  Shrewsbury  could  do  was  to  chat 
vaguely  with  Mary  Seton  about  "the  suddenness  of 
her  sickness."  Later  on  the  same  careful  enquiries 
were  made  by  the  Countess,  whose  shrewd  deduction 
was,  "  I  have  known  her  worse  and  recover  again." 
Her  Ladyship  was,  if  not  head  nurse  on  these  occasions, 
certainly  official  inspectress,  and  Beale  reported  that 
whether  Mary  was  dangerously  ill  or  not  she  was 
obliged  to  use  medicine  and  poultices,  at  which  he 
had  himself  sniffed  inquisitively,  and  which  Lady 
Shrewsbury  had  seen  applied. 

Presently  there  was  a  decided  improvement  in  the 
condition  of  the  invalid,  and  Elizabeth  allowed  Mary's 
carriage  to  be  sent  to  her  so  that  she  might  drive 
within  the  limits  of  the  Sheffield  manor  estate,  whose 
circumference  in  those  days,  as  Leader  assures  us,  was 
eight  miles,  and  covered  an  expanse  of  2461  acres. 
Mary  could  not  yet  avail  herself  of  this  distraction,  so 
sore  and  feeble  was  her  weakened  body.  Yet  at  all  times 
and  seasons  she  was  extraordinarily  sensitive  to  the 
joys  and  sorrows  of  persons  in  her  environment.  The 
birth  of  Gilbert's  daughter  already  mentioned  was  just 
such  an  occasion  for  her  goodness  and  generosity.  She 
stood  godmother  to  the  child  and  sent  to  France  for 
presents.  These  family  occurrences  complicated  the 
Earl's  business  considerably,  and  he  took  great  precau- 
tions on  this  occasion  that  the  event  should  not  come  to 


234  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

pass  under  the  same  roof  as  that  which  held  his  captive. 
At  the  end  of  the  letter,  in  which  he  instructs  Baldwin 
to  make  certain  payments  to  his  daughter-in-law's 
nurse,  he  says  :  "  I  am  removed  to  the  castle,  and 
most  quiet  when  I  have  the  fewest  women  here,  and 
am  best  able  to  discharge  the  trust  reposed  in  me." 

He  had  still  further  occasion  for  this  attitude,  for 
another  blow  fell  upon  his  family.  Young  Lady 
Lennox  died.  As  usual  it  was  the  Earl  who  made  the 
formal  announcement  of  the  loss  at  Court,  for  his  wife 
was,  as  on  a  previous  occasion,  too  distraught  to  collect 
her  wits. 

"  My  very  good  Lords, 

"  It  hath  pleased  God  to  call  to  His  mercy 
out  of  this  transitory  world  my  daughter  Lennox, 
this  present  Sunday,  being  the  21st  of  January, 
about  three  of  the  clock  in  the  morning.  Both 
towards  God  and  the  world  she  made  a  most 
godly  and  good  end,  and  was  in  most  perfect  mem- 
ory all  the  time  of  her  sickness  even  to  the  last  hour. 
Sundry  times  did  she  make  her  most  earnest  and 
humble  prayer  to  the  Almighty  for  her  Majesty's  most 
happy  estate  and  the  long  and  prosperous  continuance 
thereof,  and  as  one  most  infinitely  bound  to  her  High- 
ness, humbly  and  lowly  beseeched  Her  Majesty  to  have 
pity  upon  her  poor  orphan  Arabella  Stewart,  and  as  at 
all  times  heretofore  both  the  mother  and  poor  daughter 
were  most  infinitely  bound  to  her  Highness,  so  her 
assured  trust  was  that  Her  Majesty  would  continue  the 
same  accustomed  goodness  and  bounty  to  the  poor  child 
she  left,  and  of  this  her  suit  and  humble  petition  my 
said  daughter  Lennox,  by  her  last  will  and  testament. 


RUTH   AND   JOYUSITIE  235 

requireth  both  your  Lordships,  to  whom  she  found  and 
acknowledged  herself  always  most  bound  in  her  name, 
most  lowly  to  make  this  humble  petition  to  Her 
Majesty  and  to  present  with  all  humility  unto  Her 
Majesty  a  poor  remembrance  (delivered  by  my  daughter's 
own  hands)  which  very  shortly  will  be  sent,  with  my 
daughter's  most  humble  prayer  for  her  Highness'  most 
happy  estate,  and  most  lowly  beseeching  her  Highness  in 
such  sort  to  accept  thereof  as  it  pleased  the  Almighty 
to  receive  the  poor  widow's  mite. 

"  My  wife  taketh  my  daughter  Lennox's  death  so 
grievously  that  she  neither  doth  nor  can  think  of  any- 
thing but  of  lamenting  and  weeping.  I  thought  it  my 
part  to  signify  to  both  your  Lordships  in  what  sort  God 
hath  called  her  to  his  mercy,  which  I  beseech  you  make 
known  to  Her  Majesty  and  thus  with  my  very  hearty 
commendations  to  both  your  good  Lordships  I  cease. 
"  Sheffield  Manor  this  21st  January,  158 1-2. 
*'  Your  Lordships'  assured 

"  G.  Shrewsbury. 

"  To  Lord  Burghley  and  Lord  Leicester."  ^ 

^  Ellis's  Letters  (Lansdowne  MSS.). 


CHAPTER   XVI 


VOLTE    FACE 


^  I  ''HE  death  of  her  daughter  Elizabeth  Lennox  proved 
a  heavy  blow  to  Bess  Shrewsbury.  At  first  she  did 
not  realise  the  full  force  of  it.  Everything  possible  had 
been  done  to  secure  puissant  support  and  interest  for 
Elizabeth  and  her  child  Arabella  immediately  on  the 
death  of  her  husband  and  mother-in-law. 

The  will  executed  by  Queen  Mary  in  1577  specially 
named  Arabella  Stuart  as  heiress  to  her  father's  earldom, 
in  the  clause:  "Je  faitz  don  a  Arbelle,  ma  niepce,  du 
compt^  de  Lennox,  tenu  par  feu  son  p^re,  et  commande 
a  mon  filz  comme  mon  heritier  et  successeur,  d'obeyr  en 
cest  endroict  a  ma  volont6." 

Further,  the  young  widow  herself  had  found  courage 
to  address  Lord  Burghley  : — 

"  I  can  but  yield  unto  your  Lordship  most  hearty 
thanks  for  your  continual  goodness  towards  me  and  my 
little  one,  and  specially  for  your  Lordship's  late  good 
dealing  with  the  Scots  Ambassador  for  my  poor  child's 
right,  for  which,  as  also  sundry  otherwise  we  are  for  ever 
bound  to  your  Lordship  whom  I  beseech  still  to  further 
that  cause  as  to  your  Lordship  may  seem  best. 

"  I  can  assure  your  Lordship  that  the  Earldom  of 
Lennox  was  granted  by  Act  of  Parliament  to  my  Lord 
my  late  husband  and  the  heirs  of  his  body,  so  that  they 

236 


VOLTE   FACE  237 

should  offer  great  wrong  in  seeking  to  take  it  from 
Arbella,  which  I  trust  by  your  Lordships'  good  means 
will  be  prevented,  being  of  your  mere  goodness  for 
justice  sake  so  well  disposed  thereto.  For  all  which 
your  Lordship's  goodness  as  I  am  bound  I  rest  in  heart 
more  thankful  than  I  can  anyway  express. 

"  I  take  my  leave  of  your  Lordship,  whom  I  pray 
God  long  to  preserve. 

"At  Newgate  Street  the  15th  Aug.  1578. 
"  Your  Lordship's, 

"As  I  am  bound, 

"E.  Lennox."^ 

Again,  immediately  on  the  death  of  the  old  Lady 
Lennox  Mary  had  executed  this  warrant  dated  Sept.  19, 
1579,  appointing  any  heirloom  jewels  to  Arabella  : — 

"  To  all  people  be  it  knowne  that  we  Marie  be  the 
grace  of  God  Quene  of  Scotland,  dowagier  of  Fraunce 
doo  will  and  require  Thomas  Fowller  soole  executor  to 
our  dearest  mother  in  lawe  and  aunt,  the  lady  Margret 
countess  of  Lennox  deceased,  to  deliver  into  the  hands 
and  cowstody  of  our  right  well  belowed  cousines  Eliza- 
beth contess  of  Shrewsbury  all  and  every  such  juells, 
as  the  sayd  Lady  Margaret  before  her  death  delivered 
and  committed  in  charge  to  the  said  Thomas  Fowller 
for  the  use  of  the  lady  Arbella  Stewart  her  graund  chyld 
if  God  send  her  lyf  till  fowrten  yeres  of  age  ;  if  not 
then,  for  the  use  of  our  deare  and  only  sonne  the  prince 
of  Scotland.  In  witness  that  this  is  owre  will  and 
desire  to  the  sayd  Fowller  we  have  gewen  the  present 
under  our  owne  hand  at  Shefild   Manor,  the  XIX  off 

1  Ellis's  Letters. 


238  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

September  the  year   of   our  lord   M.D.  threscore  and 
nyntenth,  and  of  our  regne  the  thretty  sixth."  ^ 

In  addition  Mary  wrote  at  this  time  to  "  Monsieur 
de  Glasgo  "  one  of  her  Archbishops,  in  such  a  manner 
as  shows  her  sincere  attitude  towards  the  Lennox  succes- 
sion. This  letter  embodies  the  important  fact  of  the 
interposition  of  Queen  Elizabeth,  while  the  warrant 
just  quoted  awards  the  care  of  the  jewels  not  to  the 
mother  but  the  maternal  grandmother  of  the  Stuart 
heiress. 

"The  Countess  of  Lennox,  my  mother-in-law  died 
about  a  month  ago,  and  the  Q.  of  E**.  has  taken  into 
her  care  her  ladyship's  grand  daughter  (Arabella  S.).  I 
desire  those  who  are  about  my  son  to  make  instances  in 
his  name  for  this  succession,  not  for  any  desire  I  have 
that  he  should  actually  succeed  to  it,  but  rather  to  testify 
that  neither  he  nor  I  ought  to  be  reputed  or  treated  as 
foreigners  in  England  who  are  both  born  within  the 
same  isle. 

"This  good  lady  was,  thank  God,  in  very  good  corre- 
spondence with  me  these  5  or  6  years  bygone,  and  has 
confessed  to  me  by  sundry  letters  under  her  hand, 
which  I  carefully  preserve,  the  injury  she  did  me  by  the 
unjust  pursuits  wh.  she  allowed  to  go  against  me  in  her 
name,  thro'  bad  information,  but  principally,  she  said 
thro'  the  express  orders  of  the  Q.  of  Ed.  and  the  per- 
suasions of  her  council,  who  took  much  solicitude  that 
we  might  never  come  to  good  understanding  together. 
But  as  soon  as  she  came  to  know  of  my  innocence,  she 
desisted  from  any  further  suit  against  me."  ^ 

1  LabanofF.  2  Ibid, 


VOLTE   FACE  239 

Lady  Shrewsbury  may  or  may  not  have  felt  the 
support  of  Mary  ineffectual,  but  she  must  have  hoped 
everything  from  Elizabeth,  and  to  Lord  Burghley's 
condolences  wrote  thus  : — 

"  My  honourable  good  Lord,  your  Lordship  hath 
heard  by  my  Lo.  how  it  hath  pleased  God  to  visit  me  ; 
but  in  what  sort  soever  his  pleasure  is  to  lay  his 
heavy  hand  on  us  we  must  take  it  thankfully.  It  is 
good  reason  his  holy  will  should  be  obeyed.  My 
honourable  good  Lord  I  shall  not  need  here  to  make 
long  recital  to  your  Lo.  how  that  in  all  my  greatest 
matters  I  have  been  singularly  bound  to  your  Lo.  for 
your  Lo.'  good  and  especial  favour  to  me,  and  how 
much  your  Lo.  did  bind  me,  the  poor  woman  that  is 
gone,  and  my  Arbella,  at  our  last  meeting  at  Court, 
neither  the  mother  during  her  life,  nor  can  I  ever  forget, 
but  most  thankfully  acknowledge  it  ;  and  so  I  am  well 
assured  will  the  young  babe  when  her  riper  years  will 
suffer  her  to  know  her  best  friends.  And  now  my  good 
Lo.  I  hope  her  Majesty  upon  my  most  humble  suit  will 
let  that  portion  which  her  Majesty  bestowed  on  my 
daughter  and  jewel  Arbella,  remain  wholly  to  the  child 
for  her  better  education.  Her  servants  that  are  to  look 
to  her,  her  masters  that  are  to  train  her  up  in  all  good 
learning  and  virtue,  will  require  no  small  charges  ; 
wherefore  my  earnest  request  to  your  Lo.  is  so  to  re- 
commend this  my  humble  suit  to  her  Majesty  as  it  may 
soonest  and  easiest  take  effect  ;  and  I  beseech  your  Lo. 
to  give  my  son  William  Cavendish  leave  to  attend  on 
your  Lo.  about  this  matter.  And  so  referring  myself, 
my  sweet  jewel  Arbella,  and  the  whole  matter  to  your 
honourable  and  friendly  consideration,  I  take  my  leave 


240  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

of  your  Lo.  to  pardon  me  for  that  I  am  not  able  to 
write  to  your  Lo.  with  my  own  hand.  Sheffield  this 
28  th  January. 

"Your  L.  most  assured 

loving  friend 

"E.  Shrewsbury."* 

Meanwhile  the  young  King  of  Scotland  took  his  own 
way,  and  Esm^  Stuart  stepped  eventually  into  the  shoes 
of  the  newly  appointed  Lord  Lennox — the  old  Bishop 
of  Caithness  aforesaid — as  intended  by  the  nobles  who 
surrounded  the  Scottish  throne. 

There  was  from  the  standpoint  of  King  James 
sufficient  excuse  for  this  device.  Esme  was  the  nephew 
of  the  late  Lord  Lennox,  Arabella's  grandfather,  and  a 
close  kinsman  of  the  young  King.  He  had  courtly 
training,  culture,  and  diplomacy  in  his  favour.  He  was 
nine  years  older  than  the  little  sovereign,  and  he  came 
to  Scotland  from  France  as  the  accredited  though  secret 
representative  of  Rome  and  the  Guises,  to  win  Scotland 
at  one  stroke  back  to  its  alliance  with  France  and  its 
obedience  to  the  Pope.  He  made  his  presence  felt 
quickly  enough  and  the  first-fruits  of  his  coming  was 
the  seizure  and  execution  of  Lord  Morton — erstwhile 
Regent,  and  creature  of  Elizabeth — as  a  prominent 
agent  in  the  murder  of  Lord  Darnley.  Here  for  the 
moment  we  leave  Esm6  Stuart,  in  Creighton's  concen- 
trated phrase,  as  "  master  of  Scotland  .  .  .  the  English 
party  practically  destroyed." 

Meanwhile,  all  the  Countess  of  Shrewsbury  could 
do  was  to  write  abject  letters  to  Elizabeth  asking  her 
to  execute  an  order  by  which  a  settled  allowance  should 
be  conferred  on  Arabella. 

1  Ellis's  Letters. 


VOLTE   FACE  241 

The  Countess  could  obviously  now  have  nourished 
no  hopes  of  utilising  Mary's  influence.  The  Earl  was 
in  receipt  of  all  outside  information  in  regard  to  Scot- 
land and  the  English  Court.  It  was  patent  that  no 
help  for  Mary  could  come  from  James,  well  primed 
since  his  cradle  by  the  lords  who  hated  his  mother. 
Bess  Shrewsbury's  glorious  dream  of  a  throne  for 
Arabella  stared  at  her  now  as  a  somewhat  sickly  vision. 
The  only  hopes  for  the  child  were  from  an  influential 
marriage.  That  Arabella's  grandmother  did  confide  her 
dream  to  Mary  is  evident  from  the  very  curious  revela- 
tions which  the  latter  makes  in  subsequent  letters,  when 
the  Countess,  once  so  friendly  and  communicative,  if  at 
times  brusque  and  inquisitorial,  had  turned  against  her 
to  the  extent  of  grave  "  scandilation,"  in  the  language 
of  those  days. 

This  business  of  Arabella  Stuart's  future  marks  a 
crisis  in  the  Shrewsbury  household.  It  was  like  the  tap 
given  to  a  very  vivid  and  complex  kaleidoscope,  for  it 
suddenly  brought  the  relationship  of  the  three  important 
personages — Earl,  Countess,  and  Scottish  Queen — into 
new  juxtaposition,  and  the  true  colour  of  the  desires 
of  the  Countess  shone  out  more  vividly  for  the  changed 
order  of  things.  To  the  mere  onlooker  the  matter  is 
not  made  clear  till  much  later.  Only  those  immediately 
concerned  were  aware  of  her  gradual  change  of  front, 
especially  towards  her  husband,  and  it  was  not  yet  that 
the  full  result  of  this  apparent  volte  face  could  be  per- 
ceived. In  order  to  understand  how  marked  was  this 
change  events  must  be  anticipated  by  a  year  or  two,  and 
attention  given  to  an  extraordinary  letter  from  Queen 
Mary  which  betrays  all  sorts  of  unauthorised  inter- 
course between   herself  and  Lady  Shrewsbury.      This 


242  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

letter,  penned  by  an  always  fanciful  and  extremely  ex- 
citable woman,  is  of  course,  an  exaggeration  of  the 
Countess's  opportunism.  Yet,  there  has  evidently  been 
a  gradual  cessation  of  the  friendly  intimacy  between  the 
two  women,  and  a  sufficient  revelation  of  the  Countess's 
mind  to  give  Mary  occasion  to  flare  out  to  such  a  cor- 
respondent as  the  ambassador  Mauvissi^re.  In  this 
letter,  of  the  year  1584,  she  speaks  fiercely  of  the 
treachery  of  Lady  Shrewsbury — "  La  faussete  de  mon 
honorable  hostesse  " — which  she  wishes  made  clear  to 
Elizabeth  :  "  Rien  n'a  jamais  aliend  la  susdite  de  moy 
que  la  vaine  esperance  par  elle  con9ue  de  faire  tomber 
cettc  couronne  sur  la  teste  d'Arbella  sa  petite-fiUe, 
mesmement  par  son  mariage  avec  le  fils  du  comte  de 
Leicester,  divers  tokens  estant  passez  entre  les  enfants 
nourris  en  cette  persuasion,  et  leurs  peintures  envoyees 
d'une  part  et  I'aultre."  She  goes  on  to  say  that  but 
for  this  imaginary  hope — "  une  telle  imagination  " — of 
making  one  of  her  race  royal  the  countess  would  never 
have  so  turned  away  from  Mary — "  ne  se  fult  jamais 
divertye  de  moy" — for,  the  writer  continues:'  "she 
was  so  bound  to  me,  and  regardless  of  any  other  duty 
or  regard,  so  aflTcctionate  towards  me  that,  had  I  been 
her  own  queen,  she  could  not  have  done  more  for  me  ; 
and  as  a  proof  of  this  say  to  the  Queen,  pretending 
that  you  heard  it  from  Mrs,  Seton  last  summer  when 
she  went  to  France,  that  I  had  the  sure  promise  of  the 
said  countess  that  if  at  any  time  my  life  were  in  danger, 
or  if  I  were  to  be  removed  from  here,  she  would  give  me 
the  means  of  escape,  and  that  she  herself  would  easily 
elude  danger  and  punishment  in  respect  to  this  ;  that 
she  made  her  son  Charles  Cavendish  swear  to  me  in  her 
^  LabanofF.     State  Papers^  Mary  Queen  of  Scots. 


VOLTE   FACE  243 

presence  that  he  would  reside  in  London  on  purpose 
to  serve  me  and  warn  me  of  all  which  passed  at  the 
Court,  and  that  he  would  actually  keep  two  good  strong 
geldings  specially  to  let  me  have  speedy  intelligence 
of  the  death  of  the  Queen,  who  was  ill  at  the  time  ; 
and  that  he  thought  to  be  able  to  do  this.  .  .  .  There- 
upon the  said  countess  and  her  sons  used  every  possible 
persuasion  to  prove  to  me  the  danger  to  which  I  was 
exposed  in  the  hands  of  the  Earl  of  Shrewsbury,  who 
would  deliver  me  into  the  hands  of  my  enemies  or 
allow  me  to  be  surprised  by  them,  in  such  a  manner 
that,  without  the  friendship  of  the  said  countess,  I  was 
in  very  bad  case.  To  begin  with  you  need  only  put 
forward  these  two  little  examples,  by  which  the  Queen 
can  judge  what  has  gone  to  make  up  the  warp  and  woof  ^ 
of  the  intercourse  during  the  past  years  between  myself 
and  the  said  countess,  whom,  if  1  wished,  I  could  place 
in  a  terrible  position  by  giving  the  names  of  those 
persons  who,  by  her  express  order,  have  brought  me 
letters  in  cypher,  which  she  has  delivered  to  me  with 
her  own  hand.  It  will  be  sufficient  for  you  to  tell  the 
Queen  that  you  heard  these  particulars  from  the  said 
Mrs.  Seton,  and  that  you  are  positive  that  if  it  pleased 
her  to  make  skilful  enquiry  into  the  misconduct  of  the 
said  countess,  I  could  disclose  other  features  of  greater 
importance  which  would  cause  considerable  discomfort 
to  others  about  her.  Contrive,  if  possible,  that  she^ 
shall  keep  the  matter  secret  without  ever  naming  who 
had  been  induced  to  reveal  these  things  by  devotion 
to  her  welfare,  that  in   short  she  may  recognise  what 

^   I  have  translated  this  freely.      Mary  means  the  tissue  of  treachery, 
the  fabrications  of  the  Countess  during  their  acquaintance. 
2  The  Queen, 


244  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

faith  she  can  place  in  the  said  countess,  who  in  your 
opinion  could  be  won  over  to  my  cause,  if  I  thought 
well,  by  a  present  of  two  thousand  crowns. 

"  You  have  afforded  me  peculiar  satisfaction  by  send- 
ing copies  of  my  letters  .  .  .  into  France  and  Scotland, 
by  which  the  truth  of  these  rumours  may  be  known, 
rumours  which  I  am  certain  only  proceed  from  the  said 
countess  and  her  son  Charles  ;  but  since  the  witnesses 
by  whom  I  can  prove  my  case  are  afraid  to  incur  the 
displeasure  of  the  Queen,  I  am  constrained  to  bide 
until  I  can  find  others  to  assist  at  a  public  explanation 
and  reparation. 

"Sheffield,  1584,  March  21." 

This  letter  flies  like  a  thunderbolt  across  the  Shrews- 
bury heaven.  The  lady's  ambition,  according  to  her 
enemy,  acknowledges  no  bounds,  is  no  respecter  of 
persons.  Mary  she  not  only  casts  aside  like  an  old 
glove,  but  she  assumes  a  triumphant,  hostile  attitude 
towards  her.  Through  Lord  Leicester's  heir,  Arabella 
will  ensure  the  favour  of  the  English  throne,  while 
other  means  will  be  used  to  secure  the  Scottish  throne 
itself  for  the  child.  Portraits  and  "  divers  tokens " 
have  passed  between  the  children.  Bess  is  as  sure  of 
her  power  now  as  she  was  in  the  days  when  she  boasted 
that  she  could  both  assist  Mary  to  escape  and  herself 
elude  retribution.  Robust,  rich,  prosperous,  swelled 
with  her  dreams,  she  counts  herself  unassailable.  Her 
mood  of  excitement  tempts  her,  however,  further  than 
her  caution.  Mary  has  spoken  to  Mauvissiere  of 
"  rumours,"  reports  so  serious  that  they  have  reached 
even  to  Scotland  and  France.  She  is  sure  that  the 
Countess  and  her  son  Charles,  once  her  sworn  servants. 


VOLTE   FACE  245 

are  the  source  of  these.  A  letter,  which  must  be  quoted 
in  full  here,  written  six  months  later  to  Mauvissi^re, 
makes  the  substance  of  these  rumours  perfectly  clear. 

If  the  correspondence  already  quoted  come  like  a 
thunderbolt,  this  next  letter  conveys  a  shock  even 
greater.  There  is  one  really  extraordinary  passage  in 
the  first  letter  which,  though  it  concerns  the  Earl,  does 
not  prepare  the  onlooker  for  the  scandalous  matter  of 
the  second  epistle.  This  passage  is  the  one  in  which 
his  wife  has  the  audacity,  according  to  Mary,  to  warn 
the  latter  against  the  Earl.  What  is  the  psychological 
process  which  forces  such  a  statement  from  the  shrewd, 
worldly-wise  woman  whose  fortunes,  socially,  are 
entirely  bound  to  those  of  her  husband  ?  What  can 
it  be  but  blind  jealousy  arising  from  consciousness 
of  their  opposite  natures  and  from  the  hostility  of  sex  ? 
The  intrigues  with  Mary,  the  opportunism,  the  blatant 
ambition — these  are  comprehensible.  Was  it  all  true  ? 
In  the  light  of  later  letters  from  Mary  all  such  state- 
ments must  be  regarded  very  sceptically.  Division 
there  certainly  was  in  the  great  household  :  scolding  and 
bitterness,  a  great  weariness  of  heart,  a  series  of  sordid 
misunderstandings.  If  in  a  wild  reckless  mood  the 
emotional,  powerful  spirit  of  Bess  Shrewsbury  had 
escaped  control,  and  she  had  uttered  the  ghost  of  such 
a  warning  as  that  quoted,  it  must  have  sprung  from 
nothing  but  the  blind  hatred  of  Mary  and  jealousy  of 
her  husband,  the  last  having  its  source  in  her  fierce 
consciousness  of  an  utter  clash  of  temperaments.  Her 
opportunism,  her  immense  ambitions  are  conceivable  ; 
even,  to  a  certain  degree,  the  longing  to  intrigue  with 
Mary.  They  are  comprehensible  if  one  estimates  the 
Countess's  nature  as  one  in  which  the  love  of  domina- 


246  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

tion,  the  quick  sense  of  advantage,  and  the  keen  per- 
ception of  the  melodrama  of  life  were  combined.  The 
Earl's  nature  was  the  very  opposite.  To  him  she  must 
have  acted  latterly  like  a  goad,  while  his  obstinacy 
maddened  her.  His  dogged  patience  under  unwilling 
service,  his  bitter  and  almost  stupid  resignation  under 
the  meanness  and  suspicion  of  his  Queen,  his  caution 
and  method,  his  intense  sensitiveness  to  any  unjust 
criticism,  his  horror  of  plots,  his  dread  of  any  un- 
authorised move,  be  it  ever  so  trifling,  formed  a  granite 
barrier  to  his  wife's  independent,  self-concentrated,  rest- 
less spirit.  Her  pugnacity  tussled  with  his  resolution, 
and  discord  ensued. 

She  whom  Elizabeth  darkly  called  "  The  Daughter 
of  Debate,"  the  captive  Queen — was  suddenly  become 
as  much  of  a  thorn  in  the  side  of  husband  and  wife 
as  in  that  of  their  sovereign.  Wheresoever  Mary 
was  there  stalked  complexity.  This  of  itself,  given 
the  intricacies  of  her  Stuart  nature  and  her  extra- 
ordinary life  and  circumstances,  was  sufficient.  But  that 
the  Countess  should  have  piled  complexity  upon  com- 
plexity in  such  a  way  as  to  wreck  her  own  household 
reduces  the  observer  to  stupefaction.  By  the  second 
letter  to  Mauvissifere  it  is  seen  that  she  was  at  Court. 
The  mere  fact  of  her  presence  there  seems  to  rouse 
Mary  to  a  sort  of  fury  at  her  own  helplessness.  This 
letter  is  even  more  detailed,  more  excited  than  the  one 
just  quoted  : — 

"Wingfield,  October  18,  1584. 

"  No  reply  having  come  from  the  Queen  of  England 
concerning  the  treaty  proposed  between  her,  me,  and 
my  son,  and  not  having  received  any  news  from  you 
for  six  weeks  I  cannot  but  doubt  that  this  delay  has 


VOLTE   FACE  247 

been  purposed  to  give  time  and  advantage  to  the 
Countess  of  Shrewsbury,  in  order  that  she  may  play 
her  game  and  trouble  those  on  every  side  possible, 
to  escape  the  just  punishment  of  her  fault  and  treason, 
and  to  give  the  lie  to  the  Queen  her  sovereign,  to 
the  malicious  reports,  so  harmful  to  me.  I  would 
make,  with  all  affection  possible,  the  request  from 
myself,  and  in  the  name  of  Monsieur,  my  good  brother, 
and  the  noblemen,  my  relations  in  France,  that  you 
will  give  a  satisfactory  and  clear  explanation  to  the 
Queen  of  England  and  those  of  her  Council  of  the 
false  and  scandalous  rumours  that  everybody  knows 
have  been  invented  and  spread  abroad  by  the  Countess 
of  my  intercourse  with  the  Count  of  Shrewsbury.  I 
beg  you  to  proceed  with  all  haste  in  a  public  exami- 
nation or  at  least  before  the  Council,  and  in  your 
presence  particularly,  of  her  and  her  two  sons,  Charles 
and  William  Cavendish,  whether  they  will  confirm  or 
refute  the  rumours  and  language  they  have  previously 
maintained,  that  in  the  cause  of  reason  and  justice 
they  may  be  punished  as  an  example,  there  being  no 
subject  so  poor,  vile,  and  abject  in  this  kingdom  to 
whom  common  justice  can  be  denied.  Such  satis- 
faction would  be  granted  to  the  meanest  subject,  how 
much  more  to  one  of  my  blood  and  rank,  and  so 
closely  related  to  the  Queen.  But  here  I  am,  bound 
hand  and  foot,  and,  I  might  say,  almost  tongue-tied. 
I  can  do  nothing  for  myself  to  avenge  this  atrocious 
and  wicked  calumny.  May  it  please  you  to  remember 
the  definite  promise  made  to  me  by  the  Queen,  which 
I  have  mentioned  before  in  four  or  five  letters  to  you, 
that  she  had  always  hated  the  liberty  and  insolence, 
so  largely  encouraged  in  this  corrupt  age  in  the  slander 


248  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

of  Kings  and  primates,  and  that  she  would  do  all  in 
her  power  to  repress  this  evil.  I  will  give  her  the 
names  of  the  guilty  originators  of  this  scandal,  and 
in  proof  of  her  words  she  will  be  obliged  to  execute 
a  rigorous  and  exemplary  punishment  upon  them.  I 
name  to  her  now  the  Countess  of  Shrewsbury  and 
her  son  Charles  especially,  to  convict  them  of  this 
unhappy  slander.  If  not,  I  ask  but  their  own  servants 
and  those  of  the  Count  usually  in  the  house  should 
be  put  on  their  oath  to  God,  and  their  allegiance  to 
the  Queen,  and  examined,  for  I  know  too  well  that 
some  of  them  otherwise  would  never  have  the  chance 
of  giving  witness,  and  the  Countess  would  maintain 
her  rumours  were  truth.  One  of  her  servants  has 
told  me  that  she  has  caused  this  scandal  to  be  spread 
in  divers  parts  of  the  kingdom,  and  that  they  have 
heard  her  in  the  room  of  the  Count  reproaching  him 
similarly.  And  to  come  to  particulars,  for  some 
months  at  Chatsworth  there  was  staying  one  of  the 
grooms  of  Lord  Talbot  specially  to  enquire  concern- 
ing this.  He  has  nothing  to  say  of  me  under  the 
name  of  the  Lady  of  Bath.  I  cannot  but  think  the 
Countess  has  power  to  silence  her  friends,  who  would 
otherwise  be  too  convincing  witnesses  of  the  falsehood 
of  their  rumours  against  the  Queen,  her  sovereign, 
so  that  she  will  do  wisely  not  to  force  me  to  rouse 
the  witnesses,  for  if  I  demand  justice  on  them,  and 
am  refused,  I  will  produce,  before  all  the  princes  of 
Christendom,  by  articles  signed  by  my  own  hand,  an 
account  of  the  honourable  proceedings  of  this  lady, 
as  much  against  the  Queen  as  against  me,  against 
whom  she  had  formerly  spread  this  rumour.  1  will 
give  a  declaration  of  the  time,  persons,  and  all  friends. 


VOLTE   FACE  249 

so  necessary  that  it  will  not  be  pleasing  to  those  who 
are  constant  in  condemning.  And  in  the  wrongs 
that  she  has  done  them,  if  there  are  any  of  them  to 
support  her  and  to  countenance  those  injuries  which 
I  have  received  from  her,  or  if  in  such  a  case  there 
is  a  question  of  my  honour,  it  will  always  be  to  me 
more  than  earthly  life.  It  may  be  after  so  long  and 
painful  captivity  I  am  constrained  and  obliged  to  put 
before  the  public  anything  which  may  offend  them 
or  do  harm.  In  that  it  is  for  them  to  remedy  and 
obviate  by  giving  me  reparation  and  satisfaction  for 
scandals  and  impostures.  God  grant  that  at  the  end 
I  may  find  true  what  the  Countess  has  formerly  told 
me,  that  the  more  she  could  show  herself  my  enemy, 
and  work  against  me,  she  would  be  so  much  the  more 
welcome  and  more  favoured  at  Court. 

"Marie  R."' 

The  scandalous  rumours  suggesting  a  liaison  between 
Mary  of  Scotland  and  Shrewsbury  seem  to  have  been  on 
foot  some  two  years  previous  to  this  letter,  and  were 
naturally  combined  with  the  suggestion  of  his  conni- 
vance in  her  plans  for  escape  and  his  vilification  of  his 
Queen.  There  is  a  long,  tedious,  pitiful  letter  from  the 
Earl  on  the  subject  under  the  date  of  October  i8th, 
1582,  addressed,  of  course,  to  Lord  Burghley.  The 
"  scandilation  "  is  not  mentioned  as  such,  but  the  other 
allegations  are  strictly  denied.  Shrewsbury  reminds  his 
friend  that  on  the  last  occasion  on  which  he  saw 
Elizabeth  and  "enjoyed  the  comfort  of  her  private 
speech "  she  did  "  most  graciously  promise  that  she 
would  never  condemn  "  him  without  calling  for  his  self- 
^  LabaDofF.     This  translatioD  is  the  one  given  by  Leader. 


2SO  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

justification.  He  begs  for  a  hearing  now.  He  adds  : 
"  Among  the  rest  of  my  false  accusations,  your  Honour 
knoweth  that  I  have  been  touched  with  some  undutiful 
respects  touching  the  Queen  of  Scots  ;  but  I  am  very 
well  able  to  prove  that  she  hath  shewed  herself  an 
enemy  unto  me,  and  to  my  fortune  ;  and  that  I  trust 
will  sufficiently  clear  me."  The  letter  is  dated  from 
Handsworth,  the  little  manor  which  appears  to  have 
been  the  only  place  in  this  and  after  years  in  which 
the  harassed  man  could  possess  his  soul  in  quiet  and 
dignity. 


CHAPTER  XVII 


THE    COIL    THICKENS 


^  I  ""HAT  last  plaint  of  George  Talbot  was  in  1582. 
Previous  to  this  the  curious  letters  quoted  from 
Gilbert  Talbot  give  a  pretty  graphic  notion  of  the  acute 
irritation  between  his  parents.  They  still  sometimes 
acted  in  concert.  In  1583  (February  7th)  both  of  them 
wrote  simultaneously  to  Burghley  to  desire  his  good 
offices  in  appeasing  the  Queen  anent  the  marriage  of  the 
Countess's  nephew,  John  Wingfield,  to  the  Countess 
of  Kent.  By  1584  the  affair  seems  to  have  developed 
into  a  very  unequal  family  feud  of  five  to  two.  As  in  a 
game  of  "  oranges  and  lemons  "  Bess  Shrewsbury,  already 
backed  by  her  sons  Charles  and  William  Cavendish, 
seems  to  have  tugged,  not  only  her  daughter  Mary  over 
to  her  side,  but  also  Mary's  husband.  He  is  no  longer 
Gilbert  the  go-between,  but  the  declared  champion  of 
his  stepmother  against  his  own  father  and  his  step- 
mother's eldest  son  Henry  Cavendish.  Family  affairs 
are  certainly  in  a  shockingly  ungodly  condition.  William 
Cavendish  is  trying  to  screw  his  stepfather  over  a  matter 
of  ;^i8oo,  and  the  quarrel  between  the  Countess  and 
Earl  is  so  serious  that  the  matter  has  passed  into  the 
hands  of  the  Master  of  the  Rolls  and  the  Lord  Chief 
Justice,  who  take  opposite  sides.  The  Countess  has 
named  her  husband  as  "  traytor "  at  Court,  and  he  is 
resolved    to    go    and    exonerate    himself.     His    secret 

251 


252  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

malady  is  betrayed  to  Gilbert  by  a  family  servant  named 
Steele,  whose  confidences  can  only  help  to  complicate 
matters.  He  has  long  conversations  with  Queen  Mary's 
secretary,  Curie,  and  seems  to  have  access  to  all  her 
retinue  and  to  know  the  attitude  of  every  member 
of  the  Earl's  household  towards  Gilbert.  The  only 
redeeming  feature  is  the  steadfast  loyalty  of  Henry 
Cavendish — heir  to  a  portion  of  the  RufFord  and  Lange- 
ford  estates — to  his  stepfather.  Gilbert  adroitly  urges 
his  own  poverty  and  his  wife's  "necessite,"  but  is  sharply 
silenced.  Shrewsbury  is  very  jealous  of  his  heir's  long 
absence  at  the  hated  Chatsworth,  but  at  the  same  time 
promises  to  defray  the  fees  of  the  physician  attending 
Mary — the  redoubtable  Mary  Talbot. 

This  lady  is  the  true  outcome  of  her  mother.  Bess 
Shrewsbury  was  accustomed  to  speak  of  her  many 
building  enterprises  as  her  "  workes."  One  of  her 
most  pathetically  characteristic  "  workes "  was  Mary 
Talbot.  Later  on  in  regard  to  Arabella  Stuart's  career 
history  shows  how  the  mother's  intriguing  match- 
making tactics  repeated  themselves  in  the  daughter. 
For  the  moment  it  is  her  pertinacity,  her  love  of  pos- 
sessions, her  hot  uncontrolled  temper,  and  her  vindic- 
tiveness  which  concern  us. 

Again  we  must  anticipate  by  some  years  and  include 
here  as  explanatory  and  pertinent  an  episode  which  dis- 
plays the  violence  and  bitterness  of  Mary  Talbot's 
nature. 

Between  the  Stanhopes  of  Nottingham  and  the 
Cavendishes  there  was  a  deadly  feud  in  the  course  of 
which  blood  was  shed  on  both  sides.  In  the  height 
of  this  strife  Mary  Talbot  (by  that  time  Countess  of 
Shrewsbury)  sent  the  following  deadly  message  to  Sir 


Photo  by  Richard  Keene,  Ltd.,  Derby,  from  the  picture  at  Hardivick  Hall 
By  permission  of  his  Grace  the  Duke  of  Devonshire 

MARY  CAVENDISH,    COUNTESS   OF   SHREWSBURY 


Page  252 


THE   COIL   THICKENS  253 

Thomas  Stanhope  of  Shelford.  It  was  not  written,  but 
delivered  by  two  messengers,  and  the  message  has  come 
down  to  posterity  in  this  form,  as  quoted  in  Johnson's 

Extracts  from  Norfolk  Papers: — 

"  My  Lady  hath  commanded  me  to  say  this  much  to 
you.  That  though  you  be  more  wretched,  vile,  and 
miserable  than  any  creature  living ;  and,  for  your 
wickedness,  become  more  ugly  in  shape  than  the  vilest 
toad  in  the  world  ;  and  one  to  whom  none  of  reputa- 
tion would  vouchsafe  to  send  any  message  ;  yet  she 
hath  thought  good  to  send  thus  much  to  you — that 
she  be  contented  you  should  live  (and  doth  noways 
wish  your  death)  but  to  this  end — that  all  the  plagues 
and  miseries  that  may  befall  any  man  may  light  upon 
such  a  caitiff  as  you  are  ;  and  that  you  should  live  to 
have  all  your  friends  forsake  you  ;  and  without  your 
great  repentance,  which  she  looketh  not  for,  because 
your  life  hath  been  so  bad,  you  will  be  damned  per- 
petually in  hell  fire."  The  chronicler  goes  on  to  say 
that  the  heralds  added  many  other  opprobrious  and 
hateful  words,  which  could  not  be  remembered,  because 
the  bearer  would  deliver  it  but  once,  as  he  said  he  was 
commanded,  but  said  if  he  had  failed  in  anything,  it 
was  in  speaking  it  more  mildly  and  not  in  terms  of  such 
disdain  as  he  was  commanded. 

It  was  this  free-tongued,  easily  infuriated  nature  with 
which  the  Earl  had  to  cope  in  addition  to  his  wife's 
excitability  and  financial  ambitions,  his  son's  cry  of 
"  Give,  give  !  "  the  suspicions  of  his  Queen,  the  lies  and 
slanders  of  his  enemies,  and  the  intrigues  of  his  capti- 
vating captive.  The  wonder  is  that  he  could  be  even 
so  generous,  affectionate,  and  level-headed  as  the  follow- 


254  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

ing  letter  shows  ;  that  he  could  forgive  Gilbert,  and  laugh 
with  my  Lord  of  Rutland,  who  seems  to  have  visited 
Shrewsbury  solely  to  pour  balm  on  his  friend's  wounds 
and  put  him  in  a  happier  frame  of  mind,  so  that  at 
Gilbert's  coming  the  difficulties  of  a  business  discussion 
about  the  disposal  of  Welbeck — at  which  place  the 
Countess  eventually  established  her  son  Charles  Caven- 
dish, and  concerning  which  she  appears  to  have  had 
important  financial  transactions  with  her  husband — was 
made  easy.  Owing  to  the  guest's  bonhomie^  father  and 
son  are  placed  on  a  footing  which  enables  them  to  dis- 
cuss things  composedly,  and  Gilbert  is  informed  of  the 
false  reports  of  his  father's  attitude  towards  Mary 
Talbot. 

Gilbert  and  Mary  Talbott  to  the  Countess  of  Shrewsbury 

(1583). 

"  My  bounden  duty,  duty,  etc. — On  Friday  at  night 
my  L.  sent  to  me  to  be  with  him  the  next  morning 
early.  1  came  to  Worsop  about  9  o'clock,  and  found 
the  two  earls  together,  but  saw  them  not  till  dinner  was 
on  the  table.  After  ordinary  greeting  at  the  board,  my 
L.  speaking  of  Welbeck,  my  L.  of  Rutland  said  he  was 
sure  my  L.  would  pay  for  it,  and  *  so,'  quoth  he,  *  you 
promised  me  yesternight,'  which  my  L.  denied  ;  *  but,' 
said  my  L.,  *  your  L.  was  exceeding  earnest  with  me 
so  to  do '  ;  whereat  they  were  both  very  merry  ;  and  he 
still  was  earnest  with  my  L.  therein,  but  he  laughed  it 
off.  After  dinner  my  L.  called  me  to  him  in  his 
chamber,  and  told  me  a  long  tale  of  the  cause  of  his 
meeting  with  that  Lord  ;  the  effect  in  substance  was  to 
continue  friendship  with  him  ;  and  recited  many  reasons 


THE   COIL   THICKENS  255 

that  he  had  to  trust  him  better  than  any  nobleman  ; 
and  said  that  I  had  like  cause  to  do  so,  both  in  respect 
of  kindred,  and  that  he  loveth  me  exceeding  well  ;  and 
sware  by  God  he  was  never  more  earnestly  dealt  with 
than  he  had  been  by  him  since  his  coming,  for  me; 
both  to  be  good  to  me  in  present  and  hereafter  ;  and 
bade  me  take  knowledge  thereof  and  give  him  thanks, 
and  that  in  any  case  I  should  go  to  Newark  to  him. 
And  before  had  ended  all  that  it  seemed  he  would  have 
said,  he  was  called  away  by  the  other  being  ready  to  go 
down  to  horse.  So  when  I  came  out  I  briefly  gave  him 
thanks  for  what  my  L.  had  told  me  ;  and  he  wished  he 
were  able  to  do  me  any  pleasure,  desired  me  to  come  to 
Newark,  and  he  would  tell  me  more,  and  none  living 
be  better  welcome  ;  and  so  we  parted.  Then  I  rode 
some  part  of  my  L.  way  with  him.  He  told  me  that 
the  cause  he  would  not  have  me  carry  my  wife  to 
London  was,  for  that  he  thought  your  La.  would  go 
up  to  London,  and  then  would  my  wife  join  with  you 
in  exclaiming  against  him,  and  so  make  him  to  judge 
the  worse  of  me,  with  much  to  that  effect.  I  alleged 
the  necessity  of  my  wife's  estate  ;  how  ill  I  could  live 
here  without  any  provisions  ;  but  he  cut  me  off,  saying 
he  looked  hourly  for  leave  to  go  up,  and  after  he  had 
been  there  himself,  I  might  carry  her  if  I  would,  and  if 
I  did  before,  he  could  not  think  I  loved  him  ;  and  for 
her  health,  he  said  physicians  might  be  sent  for,  though 
he  bare  the  charges  ;  and  would  not  suffer  me  to  speak 
a  word  more  thereof,  but  bade  me  now  do  it  if  I  would. 
Then  he  told  me  that  Lewis  being  at  Newark,  Hercules 
Foliambe  told  him  that  he  heard  my  L.  had  commanded 
me  to  put  away  my  wife  ;  and  called  Lewis,  and  he 
affirmed  it,  and  so  my  L.  willed  me  to  charge  Foliambe 


256  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

therewith  and  make  him  bring  out  his  author.  Then  he 
told  me  that  the  matters  were  hard  between  your  La. 
and  him  ;  that  Sir  W.  M.  and  the  Master  of  the  Rolls 
were  wholly  on  your  side,  and  would  have  set  down  an 
order  clean  against  him  ;  but  that  the  Lord  Chief 
Justice  would  not  thereto  consent,  but  stuck  to  him  as 
friendly  as  ever  man  did.  He  would  honour  and  love 
him  for  it  whilst  he  lived  ;  and  that  the  order  was  de- 
ferred till  Thursday  last ;  and  that  this  last  week  he  had 
found  out  and  sent  up  all  the  pay  books  written  by 
Rye.  Cooke,  of  all  manner  of  conveyances  whatsoever, 
whereby  it  appeared  that  Knifton  and  Cooke  dealt  the 
most  treacherously  with  him  that  ever  any  men  had 
done  ;  but  recited  not  wherein,  saying  that  he  hath  not 
Hardwick  and  the  West  country  lands  without  impeach- 
ment of  waste,  as  he  would  be  sworn  his  meaning 
was.  Further  that  W.  Cavendish  he  said  was  not 
ashamed  to  demand  ^1800  for  [it]  and  made  such  a 
matter  of  it,  as  was  never  heard  ;  whereof  he  spake  so 
out  of  purpose,  as  it  were  in  vain  to  write  it.  Then 
commended  H.  Cavendish  exceedingly  for  maintaining 
his  honour,  which  he  said  he  should  fare  the  better  for  ; 
and  told  that  divers  noble  men  had  of  late  answered  for 
him  very  stoutly,  especially  the  Earl  of  Cumberland. 
Then  told  that  Bentall,  hearing  how  evil  he  was  spoken 
of  at  London,  and  for  that  your  La.  had  called  him 
traitor,  he  desired  leave  to  go  up,  cither  to  be  cleared  or 
condemned,  and  that  he  hath  written  by  him  to  my  L. 
Treasurer  and  my  L.  of  Leicester  that  he  might  be 
thoroughly  tried,  and  have  as  he  had  deserved.  As  for 
his  knowledge  of  him,  he  wrote  he  had  found  him  the 
truest  and  most  faithful  servant  that  he  ever  had.  He 
'Said  Bentall  rather  chose  to  go  up  of  himself  than  to  be 


THE   COIL   THICKENS  257 

sent  for  ;  and  that  he  had  been  twice  examined  before 
my  L.  Treasurer  and  my  L.  of  Leicester,  and  had  sped 
well,  and  so  would  do  he  hoped.  These  are  all  the 
special  points  that  I  can  remember  he  spoke  of.  I  began 
many  times  to  tell  him  my  griefs,  and  to  open  my  estate, 
but  he  would  not  suffer  me  to  speak,  but  said  he  loved 
me  best  of  all  his  children,  and  that  I  had  never  given 
him  cause  of  offence  but  in  tarrying  so  long  at  Chats- 
worth  ;  which  thing  he  also  would  not  suffer  me  to 
answer,  but  said  it  was  past,  and  he  would  not  hear 
more  thereof.  When  I  was  parted  with  my  L.  1  met 
Style  ^  with  the  stuff.  The  secret  he  told  me  of  the 
estate  of  my  L.  body  was  that  swelling  which  he  said 
he  thought  none  but  himself  did  know,  but  when  I  told 
him  where  it  was,  he  marvelled  that  I  knew  it.  He 
told  me  that  Bentall  persuaded  my  L.  that  he  was  able 
to  do  him  such  service  above  as  he  never  had  done  him, 
and  to  discover  the  secrets  of  all  things,  especially  by  his 
brother  that  serves  my  L.  of  Leicester  ;  but  Steele  said 
he  verily  thought  he  should  be  laid  up  in  prison.  He 
said  he  talked  with  Curie  all  the  day  before  he  went, 
and  all  that  morning,  but  I  could  get  out  no  particular 
thing  of  him  besides  his  continual  familiarity  with  all 
the  Scots.  He  said  there  is  not  any  about  my  L. 
but  Stringer  but  seeketh  my  undoing. 

"  I  am  in  hope  to  meet  Mr.  Serjante  Roods  at 
Winkfield.  Herein  is  enclosed  a  note  for  your  La. 
to  read.  The  remainder  of  Rufford  and  Langford  is 
assuredly  [rested]  in  my  brother  H.  Cavendish,  as  the 
other  lands  that  are  unrevocable  are. 

"  I  desire  to  know  whether  your  La.  thinketh  that 
her  Majesty  will  be.  offended  with  my  going  to  Newark 

1  Steele. 


258  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

to  that  Earl  or  not,  considering  what  speeches  she  used 
to  me  of  him.  If  it  be  not  in  that  respect,  I  think  it 
is  very  necessary  I  go  thither,  seeing  that  he  hath  used 
so  good  offices  for  me  to  my  L.  My  L.  said  to  one 
that  my  L.  of  Leicester  was  Bentall's  great  friend. 
God  prosper  your  La.  in  all  things.  We  most  humbly 
beseech  your  La.  blessing  to  us  all. 

"  G.  Talbott.     Mary  Talbott." 

It  is  patent  which  way  the  wind  blows,  and  how  the 
Earl  is  regarded  by  his  principal  antagonists.  There  is 
open  war  ;  his  words  are  repeated,  his  moves  watched, 
and  he  is  simply  become  a  fine  grape  to  be  squeezed  for 
their  advantage. 

Things  were  brewing  to  a  head,  and  in  1584  Chats- 
worth,  the  beautiful,  the  detested  of  the  Earl,  was 
literally  besieged  by  him.  It  must  be  recalled  here 
that  his  wife  had  already  divided  her  own  two  houses 
amongst  her  two  elder  sons.  On  Henry,  as  eldest 
Cavendish  she  had  bestowed  Chatsworth  ;  on  William, 
her  best  beloved,  her  own  Hardwick.  For  Charles, 
her  youngest,  as  instanced,  she  had  other  plans,  namely, 
Welbeck.  Now  Henry  had  married  the  Earl's  daughter, 
Lady  Grace.  The  quarrel  naturally  concentrated  itself 
on  Chatsworth,  which,  through  Grace,  was  shared  by 
the  Talbot  side  of  the  family.  The  Earl  refused  to  be 
done  out  of  certain  rights  in  this  property.  His  lady, 
irritated  by  the  fact  that  Henry  was  on  the  Earl's  side, 
bore  down  upon  the  house,  dismantled  it,  and  sent  the 
greater  part  of  the  contents  to  Hardwick,  while  Charles 
and  William  Cavendish  practically  manned  the  empty 
building.  Up  rode  the  Earl  with  his  gentlemen  and 
servants  to  demand  admittance,  and  was,  according  to 


THE   COIL  THICKENS  259 

his  own  statements,^  resisted  by  William  "  with  halberd 
in  hand  and  pistol  under  his  girdle."  The  whole 
position  was  naturally  rendered  more  and  more  painful 
by  this  undignified  occurrence,  and  all  parties  concerned 
were  foolishly  guilty  of  wanton  waste  of  a  good 
summer's  day.  Meanwhile  the  Countess  was  prac- 
tically without  a  suitable  house,  since  she  could  now 
share  none  of  her  husband's  lordly  residences.  Here 
follows  a  tragic  and  unforgettable  letter  from  the  Earl, 
almost  alone,  as  it  were  with  his  back  against  a  wall. 
He  writes  not  to  Burghley  this  time,  but  to  Lord 
Leicester.  Ostensibly  the  letter  is  one  of  condolence. 
Leicester's  son  by  Lettice  Knollys  died  in  babyhood 
in  July  of  this  year,  at  the  time  when  the  Earl  and 
his  retinue  hammered  at  the  doors  of  Chatsworth.  It 
was  open  to  Shrewsbury  to  requite  his  friend's  sancti- 
monious epistle,  previously  quoted,  on  the  death  of 
Francis  Talbot  by  just  such  another.  The  soldier 
Earl,  however,  is  of  different  stuff  from  the  courtier. 
His  heart  cannot  dissemble,  and  the  occasion  becomes 
an  excuse  for  bitter  confidences,  elicited  evidently  by 
a  letter  from  Leicester  which  informs  him  of  the  blow 
and  makes  kindly  allusion,  possibly  admonitory,  to 
Gilbert  Talbot,  who  himself  had  lost  an  only  son  and 
heir. 

"  My  good  Lord, 

"  For  that  1  perceive  your  Lordship  takes  God's 
handiwork  thankfully,  and  for  the  best,  doubt  not  but 
God  will  increase  you  with  many  good  children,  which 
I  wish  with  all  my  heart.  And  where  it  pleases  you 
to   put   me   in   mind   of  Gilbert   Talbot,   as    though    I 

1  Vol.  CCVII  State  Papers. 


26o  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

should  remember  his  case  by  my  own,  truly,  my  Lord, 
they  greatly  vary.  For  my  son,  I  never  dissuaded  him 
from  loving  his  wife,  though  he  hath  said  he  must 
either  forsake  me,  or  hate  his  wife,  this  he  gives  out, 
which  is  false  and  untrue.  This  I  think  is  his  duty  ; 
that,  seeing  I  have  forbad  him  for  coming  to  my  wicked 
and  malicious  wife,  who  hath  set  me  at  naught  in  his 
own  hearing,  that  contrary  to  my  commandment,  hath 
both  gone  and  sent  unto  her  daily  by  his  wife's  per- 
suasion, yea  and  hath  both  written  and  carried  letters 
to  no  mean  personages  in  my  wife's  behalf.  These  ill 
dealings  would  he  have  salved  by  indirect  reports,  for 
in  my  life  did  I  never  seek  their  separation  ;  for  the 
best  ways  1  have  to  content  myself  is  to  think  it  is 
his  wife's  wicked  persuasion  and  her  mother's  together, 
for  I  think  neither  barrel  better  herring  of  them  both. 
This  my  misliking  to  them  both  argues  not  that  I 
would  have  my  son  make  so  hard  a  construction  of  me 
that  I  would  have  him  hate  his  wife,  though  I  do 
detest  her  mother.  But  to  be  plain,  he  shall  either 
leave  his  indirect  dealings  with  my  wife,  seeing  I  take 
her  as  my  professed  enemy,  or  else  indeed  will  I  do 
that  to  him  I  would  be  loth,  seeing  I  have  heretofore 
loved  him  so  well  ;  for  he  is  the  principal  means  and 
countenance  she  has,  as  he  uses  the  matter,  which  is 
unfit ;  yet  will  I  not  be  so  unnatural  in  deeds  as  he 
reports  in  words,  which  is  that  I  should  put  from  him 
the  principal  things  belonging  to  the  Earldom.  He 
hath  been  a  costly  child  to  me,  which  I  think  well 
bestowed  if  he  come  here  again  in  time.  He  takes 
the  way  to  spoil  himself  with  having  his  wife  at 
London  ;  therefore  if  you  love  him,  persuade  him  to 
come   down   with    his   wife   and   settle   himself  in    the 


THE   COIL  THICKENS  261 

country  ;  for  otherwise,  during  his  abode  with  his  wife 
at  London,  I  will  take  the  ;^200  I  give  him  yearly 
besides  alienating  my  good  will  from  him,  .... 
If  he  allege  it  be  her  Majesty's  plea- 
sure to  command  him  to  wait,  let  his  wife  come  home, 
as  more  fit  it  is  for  her. 

"  The  assurance  of  your  Lordship's  faithful  friend- 
ship towards  me  hath,  by  so  many  years'  growth,  taken 
so  deep  root  as  it  cannot  now  fade  nor  decay, 
neither  any  new  friendship  take  my  faithful  goodwill 
away,  as  time  and  occasion  shall  try  ;  and  so  hoping 
your  Lordship  will  be  satisfied  without  further  doubt 
or  scruple  therein,  I  commend  your  Lordship  to  the 
discretion  of  the  Almighty." 

This  letter  is  not  signed  by  Shrewsbury,  but  simply 
endorsed  :  "The  copy  of  my  letter  of  8th  Aug.,  1584," 
which  fixes  the  date. 

That  the  dignified  George  Talbot  should  stoop  to 
such  a  slang  expression  as  "  neither  barrel  better  her- 
ring "  in  regard  to  his  once  adored  and  brilliant 
Countess  shows  the  complete  wreckage  of  all  their  joy, 
their  high  comradeship,  their  mutual  reverence. 

Into  the  same  confessional,  the  ear  of  the  astute 
Treasurer,  Bess  Shrewsbury  poured  out  her  side,  writing 
from  Hardwick  on  August  2nd  :  her  husband  was 
using  her  very  hardly,  he  sought  to  take  Chatsworth 
from  her,  he  had  induced  her  son  Henry  to  deal  most 
unnaturally  with  her,  wherefore  she  hoped  that  Burghley 
would  remonstrate,  as  his  letters  would  do  more  with 
the  Earl  than  those  of  any  other  living  person,  etc.  etc. 
A  little  over  a  fortnight  after,  the  Earl,  who  had  already 
given  his  version  of  the  Chatsworth  affair,  placed  details 


262  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

of  the  "  insolent  behaviour "  of  William  Cavendish 
before  the  Privy  Council.  The  State  Papers  show  that 
the  Council  took  prompt  action  here,  but  to  their  reply 
informing  the  Earl  of  the  committal  of  William  to 
prison,  and  expressing  their  opinion  that  it  was  not 
meet  that  a  man  of  his  mean  quality  should  use  himself 
in  a  contemptuous  sort  against  one  of  his  Lordship's 
station  and  quality,  they  add  a  clause  stating  that  the 
Queen  desired  that  "  he  should  suffer  the  Cavendishes 
to  enjoy  their  own  lands  unmolested." 

To  all  this  quarrel  over  possessions,  which  reads  for 
all  the  world  like  a  prolonged  act  out  of  a  new  version 
of  the  ancient  drama  All-for-Money,  was  added  the 
distasteful  business  of  the  now  flourishing  scandal  about 
Queen  Mary  and  the  Earl.  Doubtless  his  wife  and 
stepsons  were  ready  to  bite  out  their  tongues  by  the 
time  the  scandal  they  apparently  fostered  of  his  intimacy 
with  Mary  of  Scots  was  generally  known.  Though  their 
nerves  were  less  sensitive  they  could  not  but  see  that 
the  afiair  was  passing  beyond  their  control  and  that 
only  harm  could  ensue.  The  time  was  approaching 
when  they  must  be  publicly  called  to  account.  Mean- 
while lesser  persons  were  already  being  interrogated. 
The  actual  details  of  the  slander  are  located  in  the 
extract  from  a  letter  in  diary  ^  form  written  by  the 
Recorder  of  London,  William  Fletewood,  to  Lord 
Burghley  : — 

"  Thursdaie,-  the  next  daie  after,  we  kept  the  generall 
sessions  at  Westminster  Hall  for  Middlesex.  Surelie  it  was 

^  This  "dyarium  "  is  reprinted  by  Wright,  Vol.  II,  Queen  Eiizabeth 
and  her  Times. 

'  The  day  after  Michaelmas. 


THE   COIL   THICKENS  263 

very  great !  We  satt  the  whole  daie  and  the  next  after 
also  at  Fynsburie.  At  this  sessions  one  Cople  and  one 
Baldwen  my  Lord  of  Shrewsburie's  gent,  required  me 
that  they  might  be  suffered  to  indict  one  Walmesley  of 
Islyngton  an  Inn-holder  for  scandilation  of  my  Lord  their 
master.  They  shewed  me  two  papers.  The  first  was  under 
the  clerk  of  the  council's  hand  of  my  Lord's  purgation, 
in  the  which  your  good  Lordship's  speeches  are  specially 
set  downn.  The  second  paper  was  the  examinations  of 
divers  witnesses  taken  by  Mr.  Harris  ;  the  effect  of  all 
which  was  that  Walmesley  should  tell  his  guests  openlie 
at  the  table  that  the  Erie  of  Shrowsbury  had  gotten  the 
Scottish  Quene  with  child,  and  that  he  knew  where  the 
child  was  christened,  and  it  was  alleged  that  he  should 
further  adde  that  my  Lord  should  never  go  home 
agayne,  with  lyke  wordes,  etc.  An  indictement  was 
then  drawne  by  the  clerk  of  the  peace  the  which  I 
thought  not  good  to  have  published,  or^  that  the  evi- 
dence should  be  given  openlie,  and  therefore  I  caused 
the  jurie  to  go  to  a  chamber,  where  I  was,  and  heard  the 
evidence  given,  amongst  whom  one  Merideth  Hammer, 
a  doctor  of  divinitie  and  Vicar  of  Islyngton  was  a 
witnes,  who  had  dealt  as  lewdlie  towards  my  Lord 
in  speeches  as  did  the  other,  viz.  Walmeslye.  This 
doctor  regardeth  not  an  oathe.  Surelie  he  is  a  very  bad 
man  :  but  in  the  end  the  indictement  was  indorsed  Billa 
Vera." 

Of  course  this  true  bill  was  satisfactory  in  one  sense. 
At  the  same  time  mud  sticks,  and  the  publicity  of  such 
a  case  always  helps  to  arouse  wider  interest  in  the  pos- 
sible rumours.     Both  Queen  Mary  and  the  Earl  were 

1  Ere. 


264  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

rampant  and  eager  for  a  proper  official  enquiry.  She 
even  sent  a  message  to  Elizabeth  on  the  subject  when  in 
committee  with  an  emissary  of  the  Queen  in  regard  to 
other  matters.  This  talk  was  duly  noted  down  and  is 
included  among  the  Marian  MSS.  : — 

"  She  thanked  her  Majesty  for  the  promise  to  punish 
the  authors  of  the  slanders  against  her  ;  Toplif  [Top- 
cliff]  was  one,  and  Charles  Candish  another ;  the  Count- 
ess of  Shrewsbury  did  not  bear  her  that  goodwill 
which  the  Queen  supposed,  *who  with  her  divers  times 
laughed  at  such  reports,  and  now  did  accuse  her.  It 
touched  his  Lordship  as  well  as  her,  wherefore  she 
trusted  as  a  nobleman  he  would  regard  his  house.' 
She  wished  this  to  be  signified  to  the  Lord  Treasurer, 
Leicester,  and  Walsingham,  desiring  their  favour  in  this 
suit." 

It  is  interesting  and  piquant  to  find  that  Mary's 
suspicions  should  alight  upon  that  egregious  Papist- 
baiter  Topcliffe,  but  this  pompous  gentleman  does  not 
appear  to  have  been  successfully  impugned  in  this  case. 
Otherwise  Mary  eventually  had  her  will.  The  Earl  at 
last  succeeded  in  obtaining  permission  to  go  to  Court 
to  clear  himself,  and  to  relinquish  finally  his  heavy 
duty.  Indeed,  he  was  soon  formally  delivered  from  his 
charge,  but  the  change  of  officers  did  not  take  place 
immediately.  Some  time  elapsed  before  formalities  and 
details  were  carried  through,  and  he  and  his  prisoner 
paid  in  July,  1584,  their  last  visit  in  company  to  Bux- 
ton. There  Mary  wrote  her  famous  Latin  couplet  with 
a  diamond  on  a  window-pane  : — 

Buxtona  quae  calidae  celebraris  nomine  Lymphae, 
Forte  mihi  post  hac  non  adennda,  Vale. 


THE   COIL  THICKENS  265 

The  permission  for  which  the  Earl  longed  came  in 
August,  and  his  successor  was  Sir  Ralph  Sadler,  who 
has  previously  figured  in  this  record.  It  was  not  an 
easy  transfer.  The  poor  Earl's  departure  was  com- 
plicated by  the  business  of  transferring  his  prisoner  to 
Wingfield  Manor  from  Sheffield.  There  were  delay  and 
trouble,  so  that  the  cavalcade  did  not  leave  till  early  in 
September,  and  it  was  not  till  the  7th  of  that  month, 
after  fifteen  years  of  hard  service,  that  he  was  a  free 
man. 


CHAPTER   XVIII 


FACE    TO    FACE 


A    FREE  man,  a  free  agent !     But  at  what  a  price 
was  Shrewsbury  free  ! 

His  honour  was  undermined  by  his  own  family,  his 
fortunes  impaired  by  his  Queen's  penuriousness,  his 
prime  was  past,  his  best  given  in  return  for  apparently 
naught.  Even  the  gratitude  of  his  captive — and  she 
never  seems  to  have  been  regardless  of  such  leniency  as 
he  was  permitted  to  show  her — had  it  been  emphatically 
expressed,  would  have  been  no  real  reward  to  him,  for 
it  would  only  have  placed  him  under  suspicion.  He 
had  but  one  testimonial  to  his  credit — the  fact  that  in 
the  midst  of  Mary's  dangers  and  terrors  she  felt  that 
she  was  safer  in  his  keeping  "  than  in  that  of  any  other." 
His  farewell  to  her  cannot  have  been  anything  but  a 
strained  and  painful  matter,  with  the  hateful  barrier  of 
"  scandilation  "  to  mar  the  dignity  and  courtesy  of  it  on 
both  sides.  She  wished  him  to  convey  her  letters  to 
Elizabeth.  He  declined,  and  her  new  gaoler  sent  them 
with  his  official  correspondence.  Thus  parted,  after  the 
strange  intimacy  of  fifteen  years,  Mary  of  Scotland  and 
George  Talbot.  When  they  met  again  it  was  as  prin- 
cipal actors  in  the  "tragedy  of  Fotheringay"  in  the 
autumn  of  1586. 

The  Earl  travelled  to  London  with  his  retinue  of 
gentlemen  and  grooms — a  business  of  four  to  five  days. 

266 


"FACE   TO   FACE"  267 

Face  to  face  he  and  his  sovereign  stood  at  last  and  the 
second  formal  step  in  the  scandal  affair  was  taken. 

He  was  "very  graciously  used  by  her  Majesty,"  who 
showed  herself  "  very  desirous  to  comprehend  the  con- 
troversies between  him  and  the  lady,  his  wife."  Walsing- 
ham,  commenting  on  this,  writes  that  he  feared  this 
reconciliation  would  "  not  be  performed  over  easily." 
Elizabeth  kept  her  promise  and  set  to  work  at  once. 
The  Lords  of  the  Council  were  summoned  to  testify  to 
his  loyalty,  uprightness,  and  honour,  and  he  was  called  to 
face  them  and  receive  their  magnificent  and  pompous  de- 
claration, "a  memorable  testimonial  by  Queen  Elizabeth 
and  the  Lords  of  the  Council  as  to  the  discharge  of  his 
duty  faithfully,  and  trust  in  the  custody  of  the  Queen 
of  Scots."  It  is  not  necessary  to  quote  the  whole  docu- 
ment here.  The  actual  domestic  scandal  is  only  touched 
very  vaguely  in  it  thus  : — 

"  And  if  in  some  trifles,  and  private  matters  of  small 
moment,  not  appertaining  to  the  Queen's  Majesty,  his 
Lordship  thought  that  his  honour  and  reputation  had 
been  touched  by  the  evil  reports  of  any,  he  was  required 
to  think  that  the  same  was  common  to  them  and  others 
as  well  as  to  himself  in  this  world,  howbeit,  if  any 
person  could  be  particularly  charged  by  his  Lordship, 
it  was  reason  that  he  should  be  called  to  answer  the 
same  ;  and,  therefore,  his  Lordship  was  desired  to 
assure  himself  of  this  their  Lordships'  good  and 
honourable  opinion  concerning  his  Lordship,  and  so  to 
sit  down  as  a  person  that  was  very  meet  for  the  company, 
then  to  serve  her  Majesty  and  the  realm  ;  and  so,  there- 
with, he  took  his  place  in  Council  according  to  his 
degree  and  office." 


268  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

Thus  did  their  Lordships  pour  oil  on  the  bruises  of 
their  battered  colleague.  But  he  needed  more  than 
words.  The  pain  was  too  deep  to  be  healed  by  that 
bland  reminder  of  the  general  prevalence  of  false  wit- 
nesses in  the  world.  The  phrase  "  if  any  person  could 
be  particularly  charged  ...  it  was  reason  that  he 
should  be  called  to  answer  the  same "  is  far  more 
curative.  Two  such  persons  had  been  dealt  with.  But 
his  lady  was  not  to  escape.  Beale,  his  good  friend,  took 
a  serious  view  of  the  situation.  "  I  have  dealt  with  the 
Earl,"  he  wrote  to  Walsingham,  **  touching  his  son,  and 
find  him  well  affected  towards  him  save  that  he  says  he 
is  ruled  by  his  wife,  who  is  directed  by  her  mother.  I 
think  his  hatred  for  her  will  hardly  be  appeased,  as  he 
thinks  the  slanders  and  other  information  made  to  her 
Majesty  have  proceeded  from  her." 

Both  Mary  and  Shrewsbury  were  to  have  their  full 
satisfaction.  Mary  was  from  the  first  most  explicit,  and, 
not  content  with  her  excited  outpourings  to  the  French 
Ambassador,  herself  wrote  to  Elizabeth  at  this  date  from 
Wingfield  Manor  after  Shrewsbury  and  she  had  parted. 
She  alludes  in  this  letter  to  Elizabeth's  "  honourable 
promise."  She  declares  that  she  will  never  desist  from 
her  demands  for  satisfaction  until  her  reputation  is 
formally  cleared  in  regard  to  the  Countess's  slanders. 
It  is  a  final  challenge  which  Elizabeth  could  not  in 
decency  resist. 

In  December  of  this  year  Bess  Shrewsbury  with 
William  and  Charles  were  called  to  their  account  before 
the  Lords  of  the  Council.  Full  satisfaction  was  received 
— of  a  kind.  There  could  be  nothing  very  triumphant 
about  it  from  Mary's  point  of  view.  There  was  really 
none  of  that  magnificent  abasement  of  her  trio  of  enemies 


"FACE   TO   FACE"  269 

which  she  painted  subsequently  to  a  correspondent  in 
one  of  her  letters  after  her  removal  to  Chartly.  This  is 
her  version  : — 

"  The  Countess  of  Shrewsbury  (I  thank  God)  hath 
been  tried  and  found  to  her  shame,  in  her  attempt 
against  me,  the  same  woman  indeed  that  many  have  had 
opinion  that  she  was,  and  at  the  request  of  my  secretary 
Nau,  he  being  at  the  Queen  of  England's  Court  in  the 
month  of  December,  '84,  the  said  lady  upon  her  knees, 
in  presence  of  the  Queen  of  England  and  some  princi- 
pals of  her  Council,  denied  to  her  the  shameful  bruits 
by  herself  spread  abroad  against  me."^ 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  the  accused  three  unanimously 
asserted  total  ignorance  of  the  entire  scandal  and  its 
possible  sources  alike,  and  their  declaration  made  before 
the  Privy  Council  was  solemnly  recorded,  and  is  included 
in  the  mass  of  State  documents,  while  an  exact  copy  of 
it  is  among  the  Talbot  papers.  It  is  not  a  very  inter- 
esting or  savoury  little  document,  but  highly  important 
to  George  Talbot  and  his  heirs  as  a  second  certificate  of 
merit.  It  covers  exactly  the  same  ground  as  the  extract 
quoted  from  Fletewood's  "dyarium."  At  its  conclusion, 
after  testifying  boldly  to  the  dignity  and  honour  of 
Mary,  the  mother  and  sons  offer  to  uphold  the  truth  of 
their  wholesale  disclaimer  against  any  person  whomso- 
ever, whenever  the  occasion  should  arise.  Thus,  though 
posterity  is  afforded  that  vision  of  their  abject  position 
"  on  their  knees  in  the  royal  presence  "  as  stated  by 
Mary,  the  attitude,  contrasted  with  their  denial,  is 
rather  that  of  reverent  dignity  than  of  sheer  abasement. 

1  Letter  to  Liggons,  May  18,  1586.  State  MSS.  Mary  Queen  of 
Scots. 


270  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

Thus  was  the  honour  of  the  Talbots  saved,  but  at 
such  cost  and  after  such  a  pitiful  process  of  the  public 
washing  of  family  linen  that  it  does  very  little  real  credit 
to  the  parties  concerned.  The  poor  Earl  could  only 
point  to  his  Queen's  testimonial  and  console  himself  by 
thinking  on  his  family  doggerel  : — 

The  Talbot  true  that  is, 
And  still  hath  so  remaynde, 
Lost  never  noblenesse 
By  princke  of  spot  distaynde  : 
On  such  a  fixed  fayth 
This  trustie  Talbot  stayth. 

For  there  is  no  real  honour  left  to  a  house  divided 
against  itself.  The  quarrel  of  man  and  wife  had  become 
the  property  of  the  world.  Matters  must  be  patched  up 
somehow  with  the  aid  of  friends  and  Court  officials. 
Everything,  to  the  eye,  was  now  put  on  a  highly  respect- 
able basis.  The  bland  disclaimer  by  the  Cavendishes 
paved  the  way  at  any  rate  for  a  more  decent  family 
relationship. 

For  the  fourth  time  in  her  life  Bess  Hardwick  had 
faced  and  surmounted  a  great  danger.  As  Lady  St. 
Loe  she  had  laid  herself  in  some  way  open  to  back- 
biters, had  triumphantly  quashed  them,  and  had  escaped 
being  deeply  involved  in  the  affair  of  Lady  Catherine 
Grey;  as  Lady  Shrewsbury  she  had  braved  the  wrath  of 
Elizabeth  over  the  Lennox  marriage,  and  now  triumphed 
over  Mary  and  the  Earl.  Upon  this  last  occasion  she 
emerged  with  a  slate  at  least  superficially  clean. 

Superficially.  The  thing  extorts  your  admiration  after 
the  reading  of  Mary's  detailed  accusations.  But  there  is 
yet  one  more  letter  which  Mary  planned  to  send  hurt- 


"FACE   TO   FACE"  271 

ling  towards  the  Court.  It  is  a  bomb  more  deadly  than 
any  of  the  rest,  and  had  it  found  its  mark  even  the 
indomitable  Lady  Shrewsbury  might  have  been  annihil- 
ated— would  certainly  have  been  hopelessly  discounten- 
anced. It  is  the  production  known  to  all  students  of 
this  historical  period  as  "The  Scandal  Letter,"  here 
translated  with  the  exception  of  passages  which  are  best 
in  the  original  French.  Again,  full  allowance  must  be 
made  here  for  the  overwrought  condition  of  the  writer. 
This  letter  tallies  with  the  spirit  of  the  letters  on  the 
same  subject  already  seen.  Moreover,  it  is  on  all  sides 
adjudged  by  experts  to  be  a  genuine  document  in 
Mary's  own  hand.  This  epistle,  which  in  itself  formed 
a  safety-valve  for  the  tumult  of  the  writer's  brain,  either 
was  not  despatched  and  was  afterwards  found  among 
her  papers,  or  may  have  been  intercepted  in  full  flight — 
possibly  by  Burghley,  for  it  rests  to  this  day  among  the 
Hatfield  MSS.  Events  show  that  it  can  never  have 
reached  Elizabeth.  The  publication  of  such  pernicious 
matter  could  not  have  done  any  good  or  have  diverted 
in  any  way  Elizabeth's  disapproval  from  her  prisoner. 
Nor  could  it  have  altered  Mary's  fate.  If  there  be,  as 
one  cannot  but  think,  a  certain  basis  of  truth  in  it — the 
Countess  had  a  lively  tongue,  as  the  world  knows — the 
road  by  which  this  lady  travelled  between  1578  and 
1584  must  have  literally  overhung  a  ghastly  social 
precipice. 

"  Madame,^ 

"  In  accordance  with  what  I  promised  you  and 
have  ever  since  desired,  I  must — though  with  regret 
that    such   matters   should   be   called   in   question,   still 

1  LabanofF, 


272  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

without  passion  and  from  motives  of  true  sincerity,  as 
I  call  God  to  witness — declare  to  you  that  what  the 
Countess  of  Shrewsbury  has  said  of  you  to  me  is  as 
nearly  as  possible  as  follows.  I  assure  you  I  treated 
the  greater  part  of  her  statements,  while  rebuking  the 
said  lady  for  thinking  and  speaking  so  licentiously  of 
you,  as  matters  in  which  I  had  no  belief,  either  then  or 
now,  knowing  the  nature  of  the  Countess  and  the  spirit 
which  animated  her  against  you. 

"  Premierement,  qu-un,  auquel  elle  disoit  que  vous 
aviez  faict  promesse  de  mariage  devant  une  dame  de 
votre  chambre,  avait  couch6  infinies  foys  avvesques 
vous,  avecque  toute  la  licence  et  privaulte  qui  se  peut 
user  entre  mari  et  femme  ;  mais  qu'indubitablement 
vous  n'estiez  pas  comme  les  aultres  femmes,  et  pour 
ce  respect  c'estoit  follie  a  tous  ceulz  qu-affectoient 
vostre  mariage  avec  M.  le  due  d'Anjou,  d'aultant  qu'il 
ne  se  pourrait  accomplir,  et  que  vous  ne  vouldriez 
jamais  perdre  la  liberte  de  vous  fayre  fayre  I'amour 
et  avoir  vostre  pl6sir  tousjours  avecques  nouveaulx 
amoureulx,  regrettant,  ce  disoit  elle,  que  vous  ne 
vous  contentiez  de  maister  Haton  et  un  aultre  de  ce 
royaulme  :  mays  que,  pour  I'honneur  du  pays,  il  lui 
fashoit  le  plus  que  vous  aviez  non  seulement  engage 
vostre  honneur  avecques  un  etranger  nomme  Simier, 
I'alant  trouver  la  nuit  dans  la  chambre  d'une  dame,  que 
la  dicte  comtesse  blamoit  fort  a  ceste  occasion  la,  ou 
vous  le  baisiez  et  usiez  avec  lui  de  diverses  privautez 
deshonestes  ;  mays  aussi  lui  revelliez  les  segrets  du 
royaulme,  trahisant  vos  propres  conseillers  avex  luy. 
Que  vous  vous  esties  desport^e  de  la  mesme  dissolution 
avvcc  le  Due  son  maystre,  qui  vous  avoit  cst6  trouver 
une  nuit  a  la  porte  de  vostre  chambre,  ou  vous  Taviez 


"FACE   TO   FACE"  273 

rencontre  avvec  vostre  seulle  chemise  et  manteau  de 
nuit,  et  que  par  apres  vous  I'aviez  laisse  entrer,  et  qu'il 
demeura  avecques  vous  pres  de  troys  heures. 

"As  for  the  aforenamed  Hatton  [it  was  said]  that  you 
literally  pursued  him,  displaying  your  love  for  him  so 
publicly  that  he  was  obliged  to  withdraw,  that  you  gave 
Killigrew^  a  box  on  the  ear  because  he  did  not  bring 
back  Hatton  when  sent  in  pursuit,  the  latter  having  left 
your  presence  in  anger  because  of  insulting  remarks 
you  had  made  about  some  gold  buttons  on  his  coat. 
[The  Countess  said]  that  she  had  worked  to  achieve  the 
marriage  of  the  said  Hatton  with  the  late  Countess  of 
Lennox,  her  daughter,  but  that  he  would  not  listen  to 
the  proposal  for  fear  of  you.  Again,  that  even  the 
Earl  of  Oxford  durst  not  live  with  his  wife  lest  he 
should  lose  the  advantages  which  he  hoped  to  receive 
for  making  love  to  you,  that  you  were  lavish  towards 
all  such  persons  and  to  all  who  were  engaged  in  similar 
intrigues  ;  for  example,  that  you  gave  a  person  of  the 
Bedchamber,  named  George,  a  pension  of  ;^300  for 
bringing  you  the  news  of  the  return  of  Hatton  ;  that 
towards  all  other  persons  you  were  very  thankless  and 
stingy,  and  that  there  were  but  three  or  four  in  your 
kingdom  whom  you  had  ever  benefited.  The  Countess, 
in  fits  of  laughter,  advised  me  to  place  my  son  among 
the  ranks  of  your  lovers  as  a  thing  which  would  do 
me  good  service  and  would  entirely  disable  the  Duke, 
whose  affair,  if  allowed  to  continue,  would  be  very 
prejudicial  to  me.  And  when  I  replied  that  such  an 
act  would  be  interpreted  as  sheer  mockery,  she  answered 

1  Killigrew  was  a  deadly  enemy  of  Mary,  for  he  had  been  sent  in 
1572  to  Scotland  by  Elizabeth  to  propose  the  demand  by  the  Scots  of 
the  surrender  of  Mary  on  condition  that  she  should  be  executed. 
T 


274  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

that  you  were  so  vain,  and  had  such  a  good  opinion 
of  your  beauty — as  if  you  were  a  sort  of  goddess  from 
heaven — that  she  wagered  she  could  easily  make  you 
take  the  matter  seriously  and  would  put  my  son  in  the 
way  of  carrying  it  through. 

"  [She  said]  that  you  were  so  fond  of  exaggerated 
adulation,  such  as  the  assurance  that  no  one  dared  to 
look  full  into  your  face,  since  it  shone  like  the  sun, 
that  she  and  other  ladies  at  Court  were  obliged  to 
employ  similar  forms  of  flattery ;  that  on  her  last 
appearance  before  you  she  and  the  late  Countess  of 
Lennox  scarcely  ventured  to  interchange  glances  for 
fear  of  bursting  into  laughter  over  the  way  in  which 
they  were  openly  mocking  you.  She  begged  me  on 
her  return  to  scold  her  daughter  because  she  could  not 
persuade  her  to  do  likewise  ;  and  as  for  your  daughter 
Talbot  she  was  assured  that  she  would  never  fail  to 
sneer  at  you.  The  said  Lady  Talbot,  immediately  upon 
her  return,  after  she  had  made  her  obeisance  to  you  and 
taken  the  oath  as  one  of  your  servants,  related  it  to  me 
as  a  mere  empty  pretence,  and  begged  me  to  receive  a 
similar  act  of  homage,  one  which  she  felt,  however,  more 
deeply  and  rendered  absolutely  to  me.  This  for  a  long 
time  I  refused,  but  in  the  end,  disarmed  by  her  tears, 
I  let  her  yield  it  to  me,  she  declaring  that  she  would 
not  for  worlds  be  in  personal  attendance  upon  you,  for 
fear  lest  if  you  were  angry  you  would  treat  her  as  you 
did  her  Cousin  Skedmur  (whose  finger  you  broke,  pre- 
tending to  those  at  Court  that  it  was  caused  by  the  fall 
of  a  chandelier),  or  as  you  did  another,  who  while  wait- 
ing on  you  at  table  received  a  great  cut  on  the  hand 
from  a  knife  from  you.  In  a  word,  from  these  latter 
details  and  the  rumours  of  common  gossip  you  can  see 


"FACE   TO   FACE"  275 

that  you  are  made  game  of  and  mimicked  by  your 
ladies  as  if  they  were  at  a  play,  and  even  by  my  women 
also,  though,  when  I  perceived  it,  I  swear  to  you  that  I 
forbade  my  women  to  have  anything  to  do  with  the 
matter. 

"  In  addition  the  said  Countess  once  informed  me  that 
you  wanted  to  induce  Rolson  ^  to  make  love  to  me  and 
attempt  to  dishonour  me,  either  literally  or  by  scandalous 
rumours,  and  that  he  had  instructions  to  this  effect  from 
your  own  lips  ;  that  Ruxby  came  here  about  eight  years 
ago  to  make  an  attempt  on  my  life  after  being  received 
by  you  personally,  and  that  you  told  him  to  do  all  that 
Walsingham  should  command  and  direct. 

"  That  when  the  Countess  was  promoting  the  marriage 
of  her  son  Charles  with  one  of  Lord  Paget's  nieces, 
while  you  on  the  other  hand  wanted  to  secure  her  by  the 
exercise  of  your  unlimited  and  absolute  prerogative  for 
a  member  of  the  Knollys  family,  she  had  raised  an 
outcry  against  you  and  declared  it  was  pure  tyranny  that 
you  should  want  to  carry  off  all  the  heiresses  of  the 
country  according  to  your  own  fancy,  and  that  you  had 
disgracefully  abused  the  said  Paget,  but  that  in  the  end 
the  nobility  of  the  kingdom  would  not  stand  it,  even 
if  you  appealed  to  other  than  those  whom  she  knew 
well. 

"II  y  a  environ  quatre  ou  sinq  ans  que,  vous  estant 
malade  et  moy  aussy  au  mesme  temps,  elle  me  dit  que 
vostre   mal  provenoit  de  la   closture  une    fistuUe  que 

^  Rolson  was  a  gentleman  pensioner  of  Elizabeth  who  betrayed  his 
father,  one  of  the  conspirators  who  engaged  in  1570  with  the  sons  of  the 
Earl  of  Derby  in  a  plot  to  convey  Mary  out  of  Chatsworth  through 
a  window.  She  mentioned  him  four  years  later  in  a  letter  to  "  Monsieur 
de  Glasgo  "  with  the  greatest  abhorrence,  both  as  filial  traitor  and  as  author 
of  a  design  to  poison  her. 


276  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

vous  aviez  dans  une  jambe:  et  que  son  doubte,  venant 
k  perdre  vos  moys,  vous  mourriez  bientost. 

"  In  this  she  rejoiced  on  the  strength  of  a  vain  notion 
she  has  long  cherished,  based  on  the  predictions  of  one 
named  John  Lenton,  and  upon  an  old  book  which  fore- 
told your  death  by  violence  and  the  accession  of  another 
queen,  whom  she  interpreted  to  be  me.  She  merely 
regretted  that  according  to  this  book  it  was  predicted 
that  the  queen  who  was  to  succeed  you  would  only 
reign  three  years  and  would  die,  like  you,  a  violent 
death.  All  this  was  actually  represented  in  a  picture 
in  the  book,  the  contents  of  the  last  page  of  which  she 
would  never  disclose  to  me. 

*'  She  knows  that  I  always  looked  upon  all  this  as 
pure  nonsense,  but  she  did  her  utmost  to  ingratiate  her- 
self with  me  and  even  to  ensure  the  marriage  of  my  son 
with  my  niece  Arbella. 

"In  conclusion  I  once  more  swear  to  you  on  my 
faith  and  honour  that  all  this  is  perfectly  true,  and  that 
where  your  honour  is  concerned  it  was  never  my  inten- 
tion to  wrong  you  by  revealing  it,  and  that  it  should 
never  be  known  through  me,  who  hold  it  all  to  be  very 
false.  If  I  may  have  an  hour's  speech  with  you  I  will 
give  more  particulars  of  the  names,  times,  places,  and 
other  circumstances  to  prove  to  you  the  truth  of  this 
and  other  things,  which  I  reserve  until  fully  assured 
of  your  friendship.  This  I  desire  more  than  ever. 
Further,  if  I  can  this  time  secure  it  you  will  find  no 
relative,  friend,  nor  even  subject  more  loyal  and 
affectionate  than  myself.  For  God's  sake,  believe  the 
assurance  of  one  who  will  and  can  serve  you. 

"  From  my  bed,  forcing  my  arm  and  my  sufferings  to 
satisfy  and  obey  you.  «  Marie  R." 


"FACE   TO   FACE"  277 

This  letter,  of  course,  is  concentrated  venom.  Mary 
could  embroider  with  her  pen  as  well  as  with  her  clever 
needle.  She  could  entwine  and  order  her  imaginings 
with  magnificent  effect.  She  had  heaps  of  fantasy  and 
romance  and  could  employ  them  more  than  puckishly. 
The  document  is  a  tour  de  force  of  craft  and  power.  Its 
double  aim  is  unerring.  With  this  one  poisoned  shaft 
the  writer  seeks  to  destroy  the  security  of  the  two 
Elizabeths — so  similar  in  their  autocratic  natures,  their 
vitality  and  joy  in  intrigue.  A  fiendish  delight  lurks 
behind  every  suggestion  aimed  at  the  person  and 
amours  of  Elizabeth.  Even  these,  taking  into  account 
the  ghastly  suspense  of  her  imprisonment  and  the 
wreckage  of  her  mental  balance,  might  be  forgiven  to 
Mary.  But  the  statement  suggesting  Elizabeth's  betrayal 
of  her  State  secrets  to  a  mere  envoy  like  the  Frenchman 
Simier,  while  admitting  him  to  the  grossest  intimacy, 
is  too  wickedly  sane  in  its  vindictiveness  to  be  for- 
givable. In  her  most  impulsive,  most  overwrought 
moments  Lady  Shrewsbury  would  never  have  dared  to 
suggest  a  thing  so  base  or  so  impossible.  The  letter 
condemns  itself  throughout,  and  undermines  the  truth 
of  many  of  the  previous  wild  complaints  by  Mary  of  the 
Countess's  words  and  deeds.  Naturally,  every  breath 
of  scandal  attaching  to  the  Queen's  intercourse  with  the 
innumerable  persons  of  the  opposite  sex  with  whom 
her  position  brought  her  into  contact  was  treasured  and 
retailed  in  all  directions,  and  exaggerated  versions  of 
every  incident  would,  of  course,  be  transmitted  to  Mary. 
To  achieve  such  a  letter  she  had  only  to  collect  the  tit- 
bits, put  them  into  the  mouth  of  one  she  hated,  profess 
to  expose  all  the  rottenness  of  Elizabeth's  so-called 
friends,  and  serve  up  the  whole  gallimaufry  with  a  crown- 


278  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

ing  bonne  bouche  in  the  assertion  of  her  own  innocence, 
truth,  and  loyalty.  The  Arch-Tempter  guided  her  pen 
in  this  hour,  and  that  last  plea  of  weakness  and  des- 
pair, "  de  mon  lit,  for^ant  mon  bras  et  mes  douleurs  pour 
vous  satis  fayre  et  obeir,"  is  scarcely  convincing.  The 
devil  was  assuredly  in  it,  and  she  must  have  saved  up  all 
her  energy  for  such  a  production.  Don  Bernardino  de 
Mendoza,  when  alluding  in  a  letter  of  1585  to  the 
release  of  Shrewsbury  from  his  task  and  his  retirement 
to  his  estates,  declared  that  he  thanked  the  Queen  for 
delivering  him  from  two  devils,  the  Scottish  Queen 
and  his  wife  : — 

"El  conde  de  Shreubury  ha  partido  para  ir  en  Dar- 
bissier  siendo  lugartheniente  de  dos  condados  de  Darbi 
y  Stafford.  Besso  los  manos  a  la  Regna  de  Inglaterra, 
diziendole,  hazello  por  havelle  librado  de  dos  diablos, 
que  heran  la  Regna  de  Scozia  y  su  muger." 

This  is  probably  a  partial  exaggeration.  Of  course 

Elizabeth  could  not  free  him  from  his  wife.  It  was  her 

pleasurable  business  to  bring  them  together  again.  A 
lengthy  matter  and  badly  begun  ! 


CHAPTER   XIX 


HAMMER    AND    TONGS 


nr^HERE  is  no  other  title  possible  for  the  condition 
of  things  with  which  this  chapter  deals.  That 
public  vindication  of  the  Earl,  it  will  be  remembered, 
was  in  1584,  coupled  with  his  wife's  formal  disclaimer 
of  the  scandal  circulated  about  him.  Still  there  is  no- 
thing to  heal  the  estrangement,  and  the  Earl,  hearing 
disturbing  reports,  writes  to  Lord  Burghley  from  his 
country  seclusion  in  the  autumn  of  the  following  year, 
1585:— 

"My  noble  good  Lord, 

"  Since  my  coming  into  the  country,  my  wife  and 
her  children  have  not  ceased  to  inform  her  Majesty, 
most  slanderously  of  me,  that  I  have  broken  her  High- 
ness's  order ;  and  at  length  they  have  obtained  her 
gracious  letters,  and  Mr.  Secretary's  to  me,  the  which  I 
have  answered,  and  sent  up  my  servant  Christopher 
Copley  with  them  ;  praying  your  Lordship  that  he  may, 
with  your  favour,  attend  on  you,  and  acquaint  you 
thoroughly  from  time  to  time  with  my  causes,  and  that 
it  would  please  you  to  further  him  with  your  advice  and 
continuance  of  your  good  favour.  My  Lord,  she  makes 
all  means  she  can  to  be  with  me,  and  her  children  have 
her  living,  whereunto  I  will  never  agree,  for  if  I  have 
the  one,  1  will  have  the  other,  which  was  thought  reason- 

279 


28o  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

able  by  the  Lord  Chancellor,  and  the  Lord  of  Leicester  ; 
but  by  her  letters  she  desires  to  come  to  me  herself, 
but  speaks  no  word  of  her  living.^  I  have  been  much 
troubled  with  her,  and  almost  never  quiet  to  satisfy  her 
greedy  appetite  for  money,  to  pay  for  her  purchases  to 
set  up  her  children  ;  besides  the  danger  I  have  lived  in, 
to  be  compassed  daily  with  those  that  most  maliciously 
hated  me,  that  if  I  were  out  of  the  way,  presently  they 
might  be  in  my  place.  It  were  better  we  lived  as  we 
do,  for  in  truth,  I  cannot  away  with  her  children,  but 
have  them  in  jealousy  ;  for  till  Francis  Talbot's  death, 
she  and  her  children  sought  my  favour,  but  since  those 
times  they  have  sought  for  themselves  and  never  for 
me.  Thus,  with  my  hearty  commendations,  I  commit 
your  good  Lordship  to  the  tuition  of  the  Almighty. 

"Sheffield,  this  twenty-third  of  October,  1585. 

"  Your  Lordship's  most  faithful  friend, 
"  G.  Shrewsbury." 

"My  noble  good  Lord, 

"  Finding  you  so  honest  and  constant  a  friend  to 
me,  I  have  been  willing,  and  yet  doubtful  to  trouble 
you  with  my  gouty  fist,  unless  I  had  matters  of  some 
importance,  knowing  your  Lordship  so  troubled  with 
her  Majesty's  affairs  ;  but  now,  perceiving  what  untrue 
surmises  have  and  are  daily  invented  by  my  wife  and 
her  children  of  me,  and  I  think  will  be  during  their 
lives,  I  am  therefore  to  request  your  Lordship  thus 
much  ;  if  they  shall  exclaim  of  me  from  time  to  time 
without  cause  as  they  do,  considering  how  manifestly 
they  have  disproved  in  all  their  accounts,  that  they  may 
make  trial  of  their  complaints  against  me  before  they  are 
heard  ;  and  so  shall  her  Majesty  and  her  Council  be  less 

*  Le.  Of  her  keep  and  its  cost. 


HAMMER   AND   TONGS  281 

troubled  with  these  untrue  surmises,  and  by  the  Grace 
of  God,  my  doings  and  dealings  have  and  shall  be  such 
as  I  wish,  my  wife  and  her  imps,  who  1  know  to  be 
mortal  enemies,  might  daily  see  into  my  doings  which  I 
took  for  no  less  but  they  will  do  their  best.  So,  wishing 
your  Lordship  health  as  my  own,  I  take  my  leave. 

"Sheffield,  this  ninth  of  November,  1585. 

"  Your  Lordship's  most  faithful  ever  assured  friend, 

"G.  Shrewsbury." 

The  word  "  imp "  in  Elizabethan  times  really  only 
implied  "  offshoot  "  and  "  offspring  "  and  was  used  also 
in  an  agricultural  sense.  But  the  application  of  it  here 
is  maliciously  grotesque  to  the  modern  sense.  The 
word  strikes  one  oddly  also  in  the  epitaph  of  the  son  of 
Leciester,  the  baby  Lord  Denbigh,  described  on  his 
tomb  as  "  this  noble  imp." 

On  November  9th  from  Sheffield  Castle  Shrewsbury 
reopens  his  formal  campaign,  and  the  real  tussle  in 
London  begins.  Lord  Leicester,  his  good  friend,  is  no 
longer  on  the  spot,  owing  to  his  absence  in  the  Nether- 
lands. In  the  long  letter  to  this  Lord,  quoted  hereafter, 
though  belonging  to  a  date  slightly  previous,  it  will  be 
seen  that  mention  is  made  of  the  Queen's  preliminary 
arbitration  in  the  quarrel.  The  main  points  showing 
the  fluctuations  of  this  strife  are  set  forth  in  the  State 
documents,  and  the  whole  of  Vol.  CCVII  is  devoted  to 
them,  showing  that  the  years  1586-7  are  given  up  to  a 
regular  formal  ballyragging  on  both  sides.  On  the 
31st  of  January,  1586,  the  Earl  is  found  appealing  to 
Walsingham,  requiring  that  his  wife  should  be  ordered 
to  make  public  retractation  of  her  slanderous  speeches 
about  him.    (This  evidently  refers  to  fresh  backbiting. 


282  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

for  as  regards  the  great  scandal  already  named  matters 
had  been  thrashed  out  long  since.)  He  adds  that  he 
must  bend  his  mind  to  trouble  though  his  years  do 
otherwise  move  him  ;  meanwhile  he  has  brought  a  suit 
against  Charles  Cavendish  and  Henry  Beresford,  accus- 
ing them  of  the  same  slander.  The  Queen  intervenes 
and  requests  him  to  stay  the  suits.  Shrewsbury,  how- 
ever, persists  on  the  score  of  the  statute  "  De  scandalis 
magnatum."^  The  Cavendishes  on  their  side  pleaded 
for  the  abandonment  of  the  two  suits  just  named  and  for 
the  impartial  examination  of  witnesses.  Evidence  is 
next  included  by  Shrewsbury's  servants  of  the  prejudicial 
statements  of  Beresford,  while  the  Cavendishes  employed 
a  servant  of  the  Countess  to  attest  the  great  partiality 
with  which  the  examination  of  Beresford  was  conducted, 
to  the  disadvantage  of  the  Countess'  case.  Upon  this  the 
Queen  sent  to  Sir  Charles  Cavendish  for  details  of  the 
exact  state  of  affairs  between  his  mother  and  stepfather. 
These  he  submitted  to  Walsingham  in  March.  On 
May  the  12th  the  Queen  wrote  to  the  Earl  expressing 
her  earnest  desire  that  all  controversies  between  him  and 
his  lady  and  her  younger  sons  should  cease,  and  by  her 
mediation  be  brought  to  some  good  end  and  accord. 
She  reminded  him  that  his  years  required  repose, 
especially  of  the  mind,  and  stated  that  she  enclosed  an 
order  for  the  settlement  of  the  dispute,  the  result  of 
her  conference  with  the  Lord  Chancellor,  the  Earl 
of  Leicester,  and  the  Treasurer  and  Chief  Secretary  of 
State. 

Lady  Shrewsbury  meanwhile  objected  strongly  to  all 
the  Earl's  proceedings,  accused  him  of  displacing  cer- 

^  The  Act  referred  to  is  one  passed  in  the  reign  of  Richard  II  to 
punish  the  slander  of  high  personages  or  officials. 


HAMMER   AND   TONGS  283 

tain  of  her  tenants,  and  assured  the  Queen  that  he 
refused  to  restrain  the  slander  suits.  This  is  a  frag- 
ment of  her  many  complaints,  and  is  endorsed  : — 

"  Objections  used  by  the  Countess  to  the  Earl  of 

Shrewsbury's  answers,  who  has  not  obeyed 

the  Queen's  last  letter. 

"  To  all  these  answers  drawn  by  my  Lord's  learned 
counsel,  as  may  appear,  who  never  want  words  to  answer 
whatsoever  : — 

"  I  allege  that  for  her  Majesty's  order  I  must  appeal 
to  her  own  gracious  remembrance,  which  particularly 
was  expressed  by  her  last  letter  to  my  Lord,  though  not 
obeyed.  And  (I)  do  avow  on  my  whole  credit  with  her 
Majesty  for  ever  that  the  things  he  hath  entered  to  is 
worth  nine  hundred  pounds  a  year,  and  that  he  hath 
repaid  but  eight  and  fifty  pound  of  near  two  thousand 
pounds,  which  in  that  (case  ?)  would  have  been  to  my 
sons  and  me.  That  he  displaceth  sundry  tenants,  and  as 
myself  allegeth  meaneth  to  continue  the  suits. 

"  In  all  these  things  I  most  humbly  beseech  speedy 
redress  if  they  be  true,  and  discredit  and  her  Majesty's 
disfavour  if  they  be  found  untrue. 

"May,  1586." 

On  June  15th  Shrewsbury,  writing  to  Walsingham, 
begged  him  to  favour  his  suit  against  the  Countess,  and 
asked  that  the  Queen  should  banish  her  from  Court, 
adding  that  he  was  ashamed  to  think  of  his  choice  of 
such  a  creature,  and  piteously  entreated  Walsingham  to 
persuade  his  son  Gilbert  Talbot  to  leave  "  that  wicked 
woman's  company." 

The  action  went  through  against  Beresford,  for  the 


284  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

next  item  in  the  State  record  is  a  note  upon  the  York 
Assizes  in  June.  At  the  same  time  the  Countess  peti- 
tioned the  Council  denying  the  charges  of  the  Earl 
that  she  had  ever  maintained  her  servant  Beresford 
against  him.  Next  follows  an  important  note  by  Charles 
Cavendish  on  the  force  and  effect  of  the  Queen's  order 
which  was  intended  to  produce  a  united  reconciliation 
and  cohabitation. 

The  Earl  was  by  this  time  slowly  coming  to  terms, 
but  he  required  that  Henry  Cavendish  should  be  re- 
instated in  Chatsworth  and  assured  of  certain  lands, 
while  his  debts,  it  was  stipulated,  were  to  be  paid  by 
the  Countess.  The  Countess  and  her  two  sons,  on  the 
other  hand,  stated  that  they  had  been  much  out  of 
pocket  for  three  years  by  the  Earl's  aggressive  proceed- 
ings, and  begged  for  redress. 

Into  this  hotchpotch  are  flung  notes  of  the  yearly 
allowances  which  the  Earl  gave  his  Countess  when  they 
were  together,  of  the  amount  of  rent  paid  by  certain 
tenants,  and  all  other  disputes  about  the  jointures  of 
the  Countess,  leases,  houses,  lands,  and  other  property 
settled  upon  various  members  of  the  family  by  father 
and  mother.  Not  a  single  scrap  of  personal  or  real 
estate  seems  to  have  been  forgotten.  The  unhappy  couple 
tussled  especially  hard  over  their  plate.  In  the  Hatfield 
MSS.  catalogue  the  inquisitive  will  find  a  full  list  of  the 
articles.  They  include  "  a  podinger  "  (of  which  the  dish 
seems  to  be  in  my  Lady's  hands,  while  her  Lord  retains 
the  lid),  a  "great  silver  salt  having  many  little  ones 
within  it  to  be  drawn  out,"  one  "  George,"  enamelled 
white  and  set  with  diamonds,  costing  £2^i  "^  ^^P  °^ 
assay,"  gilt  *'  talbots,"  ewers,  plates,  standing-pots,  bowls, 
candlesticks,   trenchers,  "parcel  gilt  and  double  gilt." 


HAMMER   AND   TONGS  285 

Then  there  was  the  same  pull-devil  pull-baker  business 
over  household  linen,  mattresses,  and  hangings — those 
hangings  which  were  always  such  a  cause  of  bother  to 
the  couple  all  through  their  fifteen  years  of  menage  in 
connection  with  their  troublesome  prisoner-guest.  The 
demands  of  the  Earl  on  his  part  infuriate  his  wife,  and 
there  is  a  scornful  and  sarcastic  entry  in  the  Hatfield 
MSS.,  endorsed  by  Burghley,  to  the  effect  that  "  the 
parcels  above  demanded  by  the  Earl  are  things  of  small 
value  and  mere  trifles  for  so  great  and  rich  a  nobleman 
to  bestow  on  his  wife  in  nineteen  years."  The  Countess 
then  reminds  him  of  her  share  in  the  way  of  gifts  : 
"  the  Earl  hath  received  of  her  at  several  times,  pots, 
flagons,  dishes,  porringers,  warming-pans,  boiling-pot, 
a  charger  or  voider  of  silver,  with  many  other  things 
she  now  remembereth  not.  Besides,  better  than  ;^iooo 
of  linen  consumed  by  him,  being  carried  to  sundry  of 
his  houses  to  serve  his  Lordship's  turn.  And  with  his 
often  being  at  Chatsworth  with  his  charge  and  most  of 
his  stuff  there  spoiled." 

In  addition,  she  quotes  an  annual  contribution  of  30 
to  40  mattresses,  20  quilts,  etc.  etc. 

All  these  absurd  and  pitiful  obstacles  made  the  Queen's 
order  for  cohabitation  very  distasteful,  and  in  July  the 
Earl  lashed  out  in  an  important  and  emphatic  letter  to 
Court  His  wife  had  of  her  own  will  left  him,  and  he 
did  not  see  why  he  should  receive  her  under  his  roof 
now  simply  because  she  offered  to  come.  "  It  appeareth," 
goes  on  the  statement,  "  by  her  words  and  deeds  she 
doth  deadly  hate  him,  and  hath  called  him  knave,  fool, 
and  beast  to  his  face,  and  hath  mocked  and  mowed 
at  him."  Here  follow  two  letters  from  the  contending 
parties.       Her   Ladyship  had  written  to    my  Lord  on 


286  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

August  4th,  1586,  to  which   he  sends  the  long  reply 
quoted.     She  again  writes  on  August  nth. 

Earl  of  Shrewsbury  to  his  Countess. 

"  Wife,  in  the  three  first  lines  of  your  last  letter  dated 
Thursday,  4  August,  1586,  you  hold  yourself  impor- 
tunate for  demanding  my  plate  and  other  things,  part 
whereof,  in  the  same  letter  you  confess,  which  at  your 
being  with  me  you  desired  to  have,  and  the  residue  of 
the  plate  and  hangings  you  pass  over  in  silence,  for 
which  I  take  light  occasion  to  be  displeased  with  you  by 
writing  (as  you  say)  and  demand  this  question  of  me — 
What  new  offence  is  committed  since  her  Majesty 
reconciled  us  ?  To  the  first  part  of  your  letter  I  answer 
that  there  is  no  creature  more  happy  and  more  fortunate 
than  you  have  been  for  when  you  were  defamed  and  to 
the  world  a  byword,  when  you  were  St.  Loo's  widow,  I 
covered  those  imperfections  (by  my  intermarriage)  with 
you  and  brought  you  to  all  the  honour  you  have,  and  to 
the  most  of  that  wealth  you  now  enjoy.  Therefore, 
you  have  cause  to  think  yourself  happier  than  others, 
for  I  know  not  what  she  is  within  this  realm  that  may 
compare  with  you  either  in  living  or  goods  ;  and  yet 
you  cannot  be  contented.  The  reconciliation  that  her 
Majesty  moved  betwixt  us  was — that  I  should  take  a 
probation  of  your  good  behaviour  toward  me  for  a 
year,  and  send  you  to  Wingfield  upon  my  charges,  to 
which  I  yielded  (being  much  pressed  by  her  Highness) 
with  these  conditions  :  that  I  should  not  bed  nor  board 
with  you  ;  those  servants  that  were  now  about  you,  I 
would  put  from  you  and  put  others  to  you  ;  your 
children,  nor  Gilbert  Talbot,  nor  his  wife  should  come 
at  you  whilst  you  were  with   me  ;  your  living  I  would 


HAMMER   AND   TONGS  287 

have,  and  my  goods  (which  you  and  William  Cavendish 
had  taken)  I  would  have  restored.  Yet  you  still 
pressed  her  Majesty  further,  that  you  might  come  to 
me  at  my  house  to  Chelsea,  which  I  granted,  and  at  your 
coming  I  told  you  that  you  were  welcome  upon  the 
Queen's  commandment,  but  though  you  were  cleared  in 
her  Majesty's  sight  for  all  offences,  yet  I  had  not  cleared 
you,  nor  could  trust  you  till  you  did  confess  that 
you  had  offended  me.  Nor  can  I  be  contented  to 
accept  of  you,  if  you  do  not  this  in  writing  and  upon 
your  knees  and  before  such  as  her  Majesty  shall 
appoint.  It  was  promised  that  I  should  find  you 
obedient  unto  me  in  all  points.  I  thought  it  unfit 
that  there  should  be  suits  betwixt  your  children  and 
me,  if  I  should  accept  of  you,  which  made  me  to  try 
you,  and  demand  my  plate  of  you,  etc.  What  greater 
disobedience  could  you  shew  unto  me  than  deny  me 
that  which  is  my  own  ?  You  will  hardly  suffer  me 
to  be  master  of  any  of  yours,  when  you  cannot  be 
pleased  to  restore  me  mine  own.  Is  it  fit  that  you 
should  gage  my  plate  and  mine  arms  upon  it  ^  Can 
you  do  me  greater  dishonour  ?  You  say  that,  if  your 
estate  were  able,  you  would  not  stand  with  me  upon 
such  toys.  You  never  esteemed  how  largely  you 
cut  quarters  out  of  my  cloth  ;  but  you  have  carried 
always  this  mind  towards  me,  that,  if  you  once  got 
anything  of  me,  you  cannot  be  contented  to  restore 
it  again.  As  (if  you  remember)  you  borrowed  ^1000 
of  me,  etc.,  and  gave  me  your  bill  for  it ;  I  was  not 
ignorant  that  I  could  not  recover  any  money  by  it, 
but  it  is  a  witness  that  you  had  the  money  and  yet 
you  never  paid  it  me  again.  As  touching  her 
Majesty's  order  for  your  living,  she  pronounced  the 


288  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

same  at  Greenwich,  and  ordered  me  ;^500  a  year 
and  divers  other  things  which  they  thought  fit,  and 
we  assented  to  be  set  down  in  the  draft  of  the  books, 
as  may  appear.  And  as  touching  this,  that  if  I  did 
at  any  time  receive  you  and  cohabit  with  you,  the 
Lords  thought  it  reasonable — and  you  assented  to  it 
— that  I  should  have  your  living  during  the  time 
of  our  cohabitation,  and  hereupon  I  refer  myself  to 
their  opinions.  Marry,  this  difference  there  was, 
that  if  you  disliked  to  cohabit  and  dwell  with  me, 
then  your  sons  to  have  your  living,  upon  a  signifi- 
cation to  be  made,  the  form  whereof  could  not  be 
agreed  upon,  as  may  appear.  Your  children's  names 
were  used  only  for  this  cause,  because  you  were  not 
capable  yourself,  but  they  were  thought  meetest  to 
deal  for  you,  till  I  liked  to  take  you  to  me.  And 
1  think  their  commission  extended  to  it,  or  else  you 
would  not  have  laboured  their  great  pains  which  they 
took  in  it,  and  they  would  have  been  glad  then  that 
I  should  have  taken  you  and  your  living  also,  which 
your  children  desired  not,  if  I  could  have  agreed  to 
it.  1  am  sorry  to  spend  all  these  words  with  you, 
but  assure  yourself  this  shall  be  the  last  time  that 
I  will  write  much  to  you  in  the  matter  or  trouble 
myself;  and  likewise,  if  you  intend  to  come  to  me, 
advise  yourself  in  these  points  before  remembered, 
that  I  will  have  you  to  confess  that  you  have  oflfended 
me,  and  are  heartily  sorry  for  it,  in  writing,  and  upon 
your  knees  (without  either  if  or  and).  Your  living 
you  shall  bring  with  you  to  maintain  you  with,  and 
to  pay  such  debts  as  is  expressed  in  the  consideration 
of  the  deed.  For  neither  by  the  said  deed,  nor  yet 
by  her   Majesty's  order,  it  was  meant  that  your  sons 


HAMMER   AND   TONGS  289 

should  have  your  living,  which  appertaineth  to  me, 
being  my  enemies,  and  have  sought  my  defamation 
and  destruction  of  my  house,  and  1  to  have  you  with- 
out that  which  the  laws  giveth  me.  My  goods  you 
shall  restore  me  before  we  come  together.  And,  if 
you  cannot  be  content  to  do  this  I  protest  before  God, 
I  will  never  have  you  come  upon  me,  whatever  shall 
[happen].  I  could  allege  many  causes  why  you  have  thus 
disobediently  behaved  yourself  against  me.  One  chief 
cause  was  when  I  had  made  you  my  sole  executrix 
you  persuaded  me  to  make  a  lease  in  trust  to  two 
of  your  friends  for  threescore  years,  minding  thereby 
to  have  the  benefit  thereof  by  the  executorship.  You 
caused  me  in  my  extremity  of  sickness  to  pass  my 
lands  by  deed  enrolled — to  your  friends — in  bargain 
and  sale,  and  the  indenture  which  did  lease  the  houses 
was  not  enrolled,  so  that  if  1  had  then  died,  the  same 
might  have  been  embezzled,  and  so  my  posterity  for 
that  land  in  the  case  of  St.  Loo.  But,  when  I  per- 
ceived in  what  danger  I  stood,  I  put  you  out  of  my 
will,  and  have  since  started  to  remedy  those  my  great 
imperfections  that  I  was  not  able  to  benefit  my  children 
nor  recompense  my  servants.  At  length  it  came  to 
your  ear,  though  there  were  not  many  that  knew  it, 
and  then  you  began  to  play  your  part,  and  hath  used 
me  ever  since  in  such  despiteful  sort  as  I  was  not  able 
to  bear  or  abide  it :  and  this  is  one  of  the  causes  that 
you  deal  with  me  in  this  wise  as  you  do,  and  not  such 
causes  as  you  allege  to  her  Majesty  of  my  dislike  of 
you.  All  offences  done  by  you  are  esteemed  nothing 
as  was  the  offence  of  Henry  Beresford,  that  was  found 
guilty  of  such  slanderous  speeches  that  he  had  spoken 
of  me,  that,  if  they  had  been  true,  as  they  be  most 
u 


290  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

false,  had  overthrown  me  and  my  house.  Also,  in 
regard  to  your  confederacy  with  him  and  his  son,  I 
cannot  but  remember  that  the  young  fellow  should 
swear  he  never  spoke  any  such  speeches  by  me  as 
was  laid  in  my  action  which,  till  it  was  discovered, 
moved  great  favour  towards  Beresford,  and  had  like 
both  to  have  abused  both  her  Majesty  and  Mr. 
Secretary,  and  clearly  to  have  dishonoured  me  (as 
Mr.  Secretary  informed  me).  This  I  take  to  be  a 
grievous  offence  done  unto  me.  I  thought  good  not 
to  omit  this,  but  to  put  you  in  remembrance  thereof, 
what  great  favour  you  have  showed  him,  and  was 
very  unfit  to  have  been  supported  by  you,  when  the 
case  did  touch  me  so  near,  which  I  look  for  at  your 
hands  that  you  will  confess. 
"And  thus  1  end. 

"From  Chelsea  the  5th  of  August,  1586." 

Endorsed :  "  The  copy  of  my  Lord's  letter  to  the 
Countess  his  wife,  V.  August,   1586." 

The  Countess  of  Shrewsbury  to  the  Earl. 

"  My  Lord,  1  hold  myself  most  unfortunate  that 
upon  so  slight  occasion  it  pleaseth  you  to  write 
in  this  form  to  me  :  for  what  new  offence  is  com- 
mitted since  her  Majesty  reconciled  us  }  If  the  denial 
of  the  plate  be  the  only  cause,  why  then,  my  Lord, 
the  true  affirmation  thereof  in  my  letter  is  more 
than  my  words,  neither  such  a  trifle  I  hoped  could 
have  wrought  so  unkind  effects  ;  and  were  my  state 
able  I  would  not  stand  upon  such  toys  as  those  you 
speak  of.  Touching  my  son's  living,  that  is  no  new 
cause,  for  it  was  long  ago   moved   by  you,  and  could 


HAMMER   AND   TONGS  291 

never  be  consented  to  by  us,  in  respect  of  the  reasons  in 
my  last  letter  alleged.  .  .  .  My  Lord,  I  know  not  how 
justly  you  can  term  me  insatiable  in  my  desire  of  gaining, 
for  my  losses  have  been  so  great,  with  my  charges, 
that  makes  me  desire  honestly  to  discharge  my  debt 
with  my  children's  lands,  which  you  have  no  need  of,  and 
will  not  in  my  time  discharge  them  though  we  should 
live  on  nothing  ;  and  I  am  greedy  of  nobody's  lands, 
but  would  keep  the  rest,  which  by  all  law,  order,  and 
conscience  they  ought  to  possess.  Neither  my  case  and 
fortune  hath  been  to  maintain  my  miseries  with  un- 
truths, for  receiving  daily  manifest  discourtesies  I  need 
not  blush  to  speak  truly. 

"  I  assure  you,  my  Lord,  my  meaning  is  not  to 
molest  or  grieve  you  with  demanding,  neither  I  trust 
it  can  be  thought  greediness  to  demand  nothing,  for 
I  desire  no  more  than  her  Majesty's  order  giveth,  and 
wish  your  happy  days  to  be  many  and  good.  .  .  . 

"Touching  the  postscript,  my  desire  hath  been  so 
great  to  be  with  you  and  save  your  long  delays,  that 
made  me  be  an  humble  suitor  to  her  Majesty  to  be 
earnest  with  you,  but  not  as  you  write. 

"  For  the  other  that  I  labour  your  stay,  I  assure  you, 
my  Lord,  I  did  not,  but  yet  would  be  very  glad  that  all 
were  perfected  here  and  then  to  go  down  with  you,  and 
hoped  also  ere  this  we  should  have  been  on  our  way  into 
the  country. 

"  So,  beseeching  Almighty  God  to  make  you  better 
conceive  of  me,  I  end,  wishing  myself,  without  offence, 
with  you, 

"  Your  obedient  faithful  wife, 

"  Elizabeth  Shrewsbury. 

"  Richmond,  this  Thursday." 


292  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

Like  a  pedal  note  through  the  long  jangle  runs  the 
Queen's  order,  upon  which  Sir  Charles  Cavendish  com- 
ments more  than  once.  The  main  part  of  it,  of  course, 
deals  with  the  disposal  of  property,  the  outcome  of  the 
affair  being  that  the  couple  should  travel  down  to 
the  country  together,  and  the  lands  belonging  to  the 
Cavendishes  revert  to  them.  A  footnote  to  one  copy 
of  the  order  says  that  the  meaning  of  this  is  not  to 
take  away  anything  in  the  way  of  concessions  already 
arranged,  but  only  "  to  better  the  Countess's  part." 

Elizabeth  was  accused  of  partiality  by  the  Earl.  Her 
own  attitude  towards  him  had  been  rather  like  that 
of  some  of  his  children,  for  she  had  always  made  use 
of  his  possessions  to  suit  her  own  purpose  without  any 
intention  of  repayment.  It  is  possible  that  from  the 
innate  stinginess  of  her  disposition  she  may  have  re- 
sented the  fashion  in  which  he  coupled  accusations 
against  his  wife's  rapacity  with  his  sore,  justifiable  com- 
plaint that  Mary's  imprisonment  had  impoverished  him. 
In  a  letter  to  Lord  Leicester  he  can  no  longer  control 
his  feelings  against  the  Queen.  Though  written  in 
1585,  it  is  quoted  here  as  being  pertinent. 

Bitter  and  rambling,  it  is  in  reply  to  one  from 
Leicester,  which  shows  plainly  that  the  Queen,  as  arbi- 
trator, has  thrown  her  weight  into  the  balance  with  the 
Countess.  The  document  is  quoted  by  Lodge  from 
a  rough  copy  endorsed  "The  Earl  of  Shrewsbury's 
answer  to  the  Earl  of  Leicester's  letter  .  .  .  ultimo 
Aprilis,  1585,"  and  is  therefore  unsigned. 

"  My  good  Lord, 

"  Since  her  Majesty  hath  declared  her  mind  in 
the  matter  betwixt  me  and  my  wife,  and  doubts  not  but 


HAMMER   AND   TONGS  293 

in  every  respect  I  will  observe  it  as  her  Highness  hath 
set  it  down  and  that  the  Lord  Chancellor  should  take 
order  with  me  for  the  accomplishment  thereof,  well 
weighing  her  Majesty's  hard  censure  of  me  and  my 
causes  ;  since  my  coming  to  Chelsea,  I  have  not  been 
well,  nor  able  to  return  my  answer  by  your  Lordship's 
servant  so  speedily  as  I  would,  but  have  now  thought 
good  to  send  this  bearer,  my  servant,  Christopher 
Copley,  unto  your  Lordship  with  this  answer  ;  that  as 
her  Majesty  doth  demand  and  look  for  at  my  hands 
faith  and  due  obedience,  as  is  the  duty  of  every  good 
subject  to  spend  lands  and  life  in  the  defence  of  her 
Majesty's  person  and  realm,  which  I  and  my  ancestors 
have  done  and  am  ready  at  her  Majesty's  command- 
ment, so,  for  the  maintenance  of  my  honour  and 
credit,  do  I  claim  and  demand  of  her  Majesty  justice 
and  benefit  of  her  Majesty's  laws,  never  denied  by  her 
Majesty  nor  by  any  of  her  noble  progenitors,  to  any  of 
the  meanest  of  her  subjects  before  this  ;  yet  not  doubt- 
ing but  that  her  Majesty  will  have  better  consideration 
of  me  and  my  cause  when  she  hath  thoroughly  weighed 
of  it ;  and  that  if  she  (for  all  my  careful  and  faithful 
service,  to  my  great  charges  above  my  allowance  in  the 
keeping  of  that  Lady  for  sixteen  years  last  past :  with 
the  extraordinary  charges  and  expense  of  her  Majesty's 
commissioners  sent  down,  as  of  Sir  Walter  Mildmay, 
Mr.  Beale,  and  Sir  Ralph  Sadler,  and  others,  their 
horse  and  men,  for  so  long  time  as  they  continued  with 
me),  will  bestow  nothing  on  me  yet  I  even  thought  she 
would  have  left  me  with  what  her  Majesty's  laws  had 
given  me.  Since  that  her  Majesty  hath  set  down  this 
hard  sentence  against  me,  to  my  perpetual  infamy  and 
dishonour,  to  be  ruled  and  overrun  by  my  wife,  so  bad 


294  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

and  wicked  a  woman,  yet  her  Majesty  shall  see  that  I 
will  obey  her  commandment,  though  no  curse  or  plague 
in  the  earth  could  be  more  grievous  to  me.  These 
offers  of  my  wife's  enclosed  in  your  letters  I  think 
them  very  unfit  to  be  offered  to  me.  It  is  too  much  to 
make  me  my  wife's  prisoner,  and  set  me  down  the 
demesnes  of  Chatsworth,  without  the  house  and  other 
lands  leased,  which  is  but  a  pension  in  money.  I  think 
it  stands  with  reason  that  I  should  choose  the  ^^500  by 
year  ordered  by  her  Majesty  where  1  like  best,  accord- 
ing to  the  rate  William  Cavendish  delivered  to  my 
Lord  Chancellor  ;  or  else  I  shall  think  myself  doubly 
wronged,  which  I  am  sure  her  Majesty  will  not  offer 
unto  me.  And  thus  I  commit  your  Lordship  to  the 
tuition  of  the  Almighty." 

The  last  sentence  is  entirely  ironical  after  the  pre- 
ceding outburst.  Leicester  was  not  the  man  to  take 
spiritual  counsel  or  to  bestir  himself  to  his  own  dis- 
advantage. He  was  essentially  a  "  trimmer,"  and  the 
guardianship  of  the  Almighty  was  only  a  matter  of 
speech  for  him.  He  seems  to  have  remained  fairly 
neutral  after  this,  to  judge  from  what  Henry  Talbot 
writes  from  London  on  the  6th  of  August  to  his 
father  : — 

"  All  your  Lordship's  affairs  here  are  well  ;  and  your 
wife  doth  exclaim  against  my  Lord  Leicester,  because, 
as  she  saith,  he  hath  not  been  so  good  as  his  promise. 
Her  Majesty,  praise  to  God,  is  well,  and  marvelleth 
she  can  hear  nothing  from  your  Lordship,  and  she 
useth  the  best  speeches  that  may  be  of  your  Lordship." 

To  this  letter  there  is  a  delightful  postscript  giving  a 


HAMMER   AND   TONGS  295 

suggestive  and  greedy  message  from    one  of  Shrews- 
bury's friends  : — 

"  My  Lord  Mayor  hath  his  humble  duty  remembered 
unto  your  Lordship,  and  says  he  hopes  your  Lordship's 
bucks  are  fat  this  summer." 

So  did  all  the  world  sponge  upon  the  once  wealthy 
George  Talbot. 

Another  letter  from  Henry  Talbot  is  a  sort  of  am- 
plification of  the  attitudes  of  his  Queen  and  wife,  and 
though  he  could  not  but  be  flattered  by  that  of  the 
first  there  was  everything  to  torture  him  acutely  in  her 
professions  after  the  treatment  he  had  received  : — 

"  May  it  please  your  Honour  to  be  advertised  that 
I  came  from  Court  upon  the  20th  of  this  present  where 
I  left  all  things  very  well,  and  her  Majesty  saith  she 
doth  marvel  greatly  that  she  hath  received  but  one  letter 
from  your  Lordship  since  your  going  down.  More- 
over she  herself  told  me  that  she  marvelled  she  heard 
no  oftener  from  you,  whom  it  pleased  to  term  her  love, 
declaring  further  what  care  she  had  of  your  health,  and 
what  a  trouble  your  sickness  was  unto  her  ;  whereunto 
I  answered  that  your  Lordship's  chiefest  comfort,  and 
speedy  recovery  of  your  health,  proceeded  from  her 
Majesty's  so  gracious  favour  and  countenance  bestowed 
upon  you  ;  whereat  her  Majesty  smiled,  saying,  "Tal- 
bot, I  have  not  yet  shewed  unto  him  that  favour  which 
hereafter  we  mean  to  do." 

Words,  words  !  This  was  the  coin  in  which  Eliza- 
beth paid  the  faithful  among  her  subjects,  her  kinsmen 
included.  But  to  resume  the  letter  :  "  As  touching 
your  wife's  causes,  she  lieth  still  in  Chancery  Lane,  and 


296  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

doth  give  out  that  she  meaneth  to  continue  there  and 
not  to  go  into  the  country.  My  Lord,  my  brother's  wife, 
and  her  brother,  the  Knight " — meaning  Sir  Charles 
Cavendish — "  do  attend  very  diligently  at  Court,  and 
litde  respect  there  is  had  of  them  ;  nevertheless  they 
cease  not  to  follow,  to  the  end  the  world  may  say  they 
are  in  credit." 

The  nearest  approach  to  a  final  and  reasonable  settle- 
ment was  suggested  by  the  Earl's  proposal  to  settle 
£1^00  a  year  on  his  wife,  with  Chatsworth  House  and 
other  lands,  under  certain  conditions,  a  document  which 
raised  a  good  deal  of  discussion  on  both  sides.  Out  of 
this  cauldron  of  anger,  misery,  and  sordidness  emerged 
at  last  once  more  the  royal  order,  final  and  distinct  : 
The  Earl  was  to  receive  his  wife,  and  take  probation 
of  her  obedience  for  one  year,  and  if  she  proved  for- 
getful of  her  duty  was  to  place  her  in  her  house  at 
Chatsworth.  Rents  and  assurance  of  lands  were  also 
clearly  set  forth,  and  it  was  ordained  that  all  actions  for 
plate,  jewels,  and  hangings  were  to  be  stayed. 

The  Countess  had  the  last  word  on  this,  for  her 
practical  instinct  prompted  her  instantly  to  request  that 
her  Majesty  should  appoint  someone  to  be  an  eye- 
witness "  in  house  "  with  the  Earl  and  herself.  Further, 
she  begged  that  she  might  not,  failing  their  final  agree- 
ment, be  confined  to  Chatsworth  House  only,  and 
besought  her  Majesty  "  to  conclude  her  honourable  and 
godly  work  "  as  speedily  as  possible. 

Early  in  August,  1586,  the  Queen  passed  this  final 
order  of  reconciliation.  Assured  of  the  willingness  of 
the  couple  to  cease  their  strife,  she  summoned  them  to 
her  presence,  and  "  in  many  good  words  showed  herself 
very  glad  thereof,  and  the  Earl  and  Countess  in  good 


HAMMER  AND  TONGS  297 

sort  departed  together  very  comfortably."  Wingfield 
was  their  destination,  and  was  named  in  the  original 
order  drawn  up  already  in  March. 

THE  QUEEN'S  ORDER. 

"An  order  pronounced  by  her  Majesty  between  the 
Earl  of  Shrewsbury  and  the  Countess  his  wife  in  the 
presence  of  the  Secretary  (Walsingham). 

"  That  the  said  Earl  shall  give  present  order  for  the 
conveying  of  the  said  Countess  to  some  one  of  his  prin- 
cipal manor  houses  in  Derbyshire,  furnished  for  her  to 
remain  in,  with  liberty  to  go  either  to  Chatsworth  or 
Hardwick,  and  to  return  to  the  Earl's  house  at  her 
pleasure. 

"  That  the  said  Earl  shall  allow  to  the  said  Countess 
towards  the  defraying  of  the  charges  of  household  ;^300 
and  fuel  until  he  shall  yield  to  cohabitation,  and  doth 
also  promise  in  respect  of  her  Majesty's  mediation 
further  gratuity  of  yearly  provision  for  the  maintenance 
of  her  said  house. 

"  That  the  said  Earl  shall  appoint  four  or  five  of  his 
own  men  to  attend  upon  the  said  Countess  and  shall 
pay  them  their  wages. 

"  The  said  Earl  promiseth  her  Majesty  to  resort  some- 
times to  the  house  where  the  said  Countess  shall  lie,  as 
also  to  send  for  the  said  Countess  upon  notice  given  of 
her  desire  to  some  other  house  where  he  himself  shall 
remain,  and  in  case  she  shall  so  behave  herself  toward 
him  as  one  that  by  good  and  dutiful  ways  [?^  will 
do  her  best  endeavour  to  recover  his  former  good 
opinion  and  love,  then  it  is  to  be  hoped  that  continual 
cohabitation  will  follow,  which  her  Majesty  greatly 
desires." 


298  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

All  this  looks  highly  promising.  It  arouses  glowing 
hopes  in  the  minds  of  the  onlookers  that  after  many 
toils  and  dangers,  social  and  political,  such  a  man  and 
such  a  woman,  born  to  eminence  and  possessed  of  great 
qualities,  will  enjoy  many  happy  years  together,  quit  of 
their  old  intolerable  burden,  the  care  of  "  the  Daughter 
of  Debate."  Such  a  letter  as  this  from  the  faithful 
Gilbert  Dickenson,  which  welcomes  my  Lord  home  to 
his  manor  and  his  acres,  telling  of  the  folk  who  gather 
to  greet  him,  and  of  the  fatted  calf  in  preparation,  com- 
pletes the  picture  : — 

*'  May  it  please  your  Lo.  to  understand  that  divers 
honest  men  have  heard  of  your  Lo.  coming  home  and 
would  have  come  to  meet  your  Lo.  but  that  I  have 
stayed  them  till  I  hear  further  of  your  Lo.  pleasure  ; 
and  there  is  such  running  from  house  to  house  to  tell 
that  your  Lo.  did  lie  at  Wingfield  all  night  and  everyone 
preparing  to  meet  your  L. 

"Your  Lo.  should  come  into  the  country  with  such 
love  as  never  did  man  in  England,  which  is  a  greater 
comfort  to  us  than  any  worldly  riches,  and  for  sheep, 
oxen,  and  lambs  shall  not  be  wanting  nor  anything  which 
can  be  got,  God  willing." 

Alack  for  love  and  hope  !  Only  two  months  after 
this  stately  cavalcade  of  Earl  and  Lady  travelled  home, 
the  Countess  addressed  the  Treasurer  again.  She  had 
sore  complaints  to  make  of  her  husband. 

"  My  singular  good  Lord,"  she  wrote,  "  I  most 
humbly  and  heartily  thank  your  Lo.  for  your  letter 
sent  by  my  son  William  Cavendish.  It  is  my  greatest 
comfort  that  it  pleaseth  your  Lo.  to  have  care  of  me, 
else  grief  and  displeasure  would  have  ended   my  days. 


HAMMER   AND   TONGS  299 

Since  my  coming  into  the  country  my  Lo.  my  husband 
hath  come  to  his  home  Wingfield,  where  I  most  remain, 
not  past  three  times  ;  more  I  have  not  seen  him  ;  he 
stayed  not  over  a  day  at  a  time  at  his  being  here. . , .  Since 
my  coming  down,  he  hath  allowed  me  gross  provisions 
as  beef,  mutton,  and  corn  to  serve  my  house,  but  now 
not  long  since  he  hath  sent  me  word  that  he  will  not 
allow  me  any  further  and  doth  withdraw  all  his  provision, 
not  suffering  me  to  have  sufficient  fire."  ^  She  goes  on 
to  say  that  if  all  were  as  her  Majesty  desired  and 
assured  her,  namely,  that  she  might  be  always  with  her 
husband,  she  would  not  need  such  allowances  of  pro- 
vision, etc.  etc. 

This  attitude  of  the  Earl  strikes  one  as  a  little  petty 
at  this  juncture.  He  had,  after  all,  large  estates  and 
many  houses,  and  there  was  no  need  to  starve  his  lady 
out  of  Wingfield,  even  if  their  characters  and  moods 
were  finally  and  utterly  incompatible. 

All  through  these  years  1586-7  he  was  still  worried 
by  Gilbert's  affairs.  The  letters  which  follow  explain 
themselves. 

The  first  is  a  denunciation  of  Gilbert's  extravagant 
wife  : — 

"  Son  Gilbert, 

"  I  thank  you  for  your  pains  taken  in  certifying 
me  of  those  your  sundry  news,  being  the  very  same  in 
effect  that  I  heard  of  the  day  before  I  received  your 
letter.  For  answer  thereto,  you  shall  understand  my 
meaning  towards  you  is  as  good  as  it  was  at  that  our 
departure  you  put  me  in  mind  of ;  but  for  any  help 
about   the  payment    of  your    debts    I    do    advise    you 

1  State  MSS. 


300  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

altogether  to  rely  on  yourself,  and  the  best  discharge 
you  shall  be  able  to  make  thereof,  than  any  ways  upon 
me  ;  who,  least  my  silence  in  that  behalf,  and  at  this 
time,  might  breathe  some  hope  agreeable  to  your  con- 
ceived opinion,  do  in  sadness,  as  you  did  in  jest,  return 
you  a  short  answer  for  your  long  warning  ;  willing  you 
either  to  provide  for  yourself,  as  you  may,  or  else  be 
disappointed  ;  for  during  my  life,  I  would  not  have  you 
to  expect  any  more  at  my  hands  than  I  have  already 
allowed  you,  whereof  I  know  you  might  live  well,  and 
clear  from  danger  of  any,  as  I  did,  if  you  had  that 
governance  over  your  wife,  as  her  pomp  and  courtlike 
manner  of  life  were  some  deal  assuaged.  And,  for 
mine  own  part,  and  your  good,  I  do  wish  you  had 
but  half  so  much  to  relieve  your  necessities  as  she  and 
her  mother  have  spent  in  seeking,  through  malice,  mine 
overthrow  and  dishonour,  and  I  in  defending  my  just 
cause  against  them  :  by  means  of  whose  evil  dealings, 
together  with  other  bargains  wherein  I  have  entangled 
myself  of  late,  I  am  not  able  either  to  help  you,  or 
store  myself  for  any  other  purpose  I  shall  take  in  hand 
these  twelve  months.  Thus  praying  God  to  bless  you, 
I  bid  you  farewell. 

"Sheffield  Lodge,  the  17th  of  June,  1587. 
*'  Your  loving  father, 

"G.  Shrewsbury." 

The  next  is  from  the  newest  mediator  between  Talbot 
and  Cavendish,  Sir  Henry  Lee,  a  long-winded  but 
delightful  personage  of  romantic  and  fantastic  tempera- 
ment. Lodge  assures  us  that  he  was  "  bred  from 
infancy  in  Courts  and  camps,"  and  that  this  induced 
him  not  only  to  take  a  leading  part  in  tilts  and  tourna- 


HAMMER   AND   TONGS  301 

ments,  but  led  to  his  assumption  of  the  "  self-created 
title  of  Champion  of  the  Queen,"  and  that  he  made  a 
vow  to  present  himself  in  the  tiltyard  in  that  character 
on  the  27th  of  November  in  every  year,  till  disabled  by 
age.  This  vow  he  kept,  and  upon  his  retirement  at  the 
age  of  sixty  installed  as  his  successor  the  Earl  of 
Cumberland  in  the  presence  of  Queen  and  Court, 
"offering  his  armour  at  her  Majesty's  feet,  and  clothing 
himself  in  a  black  velvet  coat  and  cap." 

Sir  Henry  Lee  to  Lord  Talbot. 
«  Sir, 

"  On  Monday  last  I  received  your  letter  ;  on 
Thursday  I  went  to  Sheffield,  my  Lord,  your  father's, 
where  I  found  him  much  amended,  after  his  physic,  of 
the  gout,  which  took  him  at  Brierly,  and  troubled  him 
until  then.  My  being  there  made  him  much  better 
disposed,  of  whom  I  received  many  sundry  kindnesses 
and  more  favours  than  I  have  or  ever  may  deserve. 
Acknowledgment  is  small  requital,  but  that  I  do  and 
will,  to  him,  yourself,  and  yours,  in  as  sundry  ways  as 
by  my  wit,  will,  and  fortune  I  may.  Dinner  done,  and 
all  rising  saving  his  Lordship  and  my  poor  self,  I  told 
him  I  had  written  to  you,  according  to  his  liberty  given 
me  upon  such  talk  as  his  Lordship  had  last  with  me 
at  Worksop  ;  that  I  received  an  answer  which  then  I 
presented  unto  him.  I  left  him  alone ;  Mr.  Henry 
Talbot,  Roger  Portington,  your  very  good  friend,  with 
myself,  standing  at  the  window,  where  I,  that  knew  the 
sundry  contents  of  the  letter,  might  see  any  alteration 
in  himself,  as  they  that  stood  by  imagined  by  his  sighs, 
guessed  according  to  their  humours.  Your  letter  per- 
used (and  well  marked,  as  it  did  well  appear  unto  me 


302  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

by  his  speeches  immediately  after),  rising  from  the 
board,  with  more  colour  in  his  cheeks  than  ordinary, 
he  led  me  by  the  hand  into  his  withdrawing  chamber, 
where  he  told  me  he  did  well  perceive  the  contents 
of  your  letter  ;  that  you  had  been  long  a  disobedient 
child  to  him  ;  that  you  joined  and  practiced  against 
him,  and  with  such  as  sought  his  overthrow,  and  con- 
sequently your  own  undoing,  and  the  espials  and  parties 
you  had  in  his  house  did  show  your  care  to  be  more 
for  that  he  had  himself;  but,  withal,  he  knew  you 
had  many  good  parts,  but  those  overruled  by  others 
that  should  be  better  governed  by  yourself.  More 
regard,  he  says,  to  your  old  father,  would  do  well  ;  who 
has  been  ever  loving  unto  you  and  must  be  requited 
with  more  love  and  obedience,  or  else  (by  his  divination) 
your  credit  will  slowly  increase.  He  is  glad,  as  he  says, 
that  you  live  in  those  parts  (but  he  speaks  ironia)  where 
some  good  may  be  learned,  but  more  to  be  shunned  ; 
yet  all  well  where  grace  is,  so  you  are  able  to  go 
through  withal  ;  but  for  the  feeding  of  such  vain  time 
and  superfluous  excess  as  should  do  best  for  yourself  to 
diminish,  he  is  not  able,  he  says,  and  1  fear  will  never 
be  willing,  to  maintain.  He  reckoned  how  many  had 
been  in  hand  with  him  for  the  payment  of  your  debts  ; 
my  Lord  Treasurer  and  others.  His  answer  was  that, 
through  the  wilfulness  of  him,  who  shunned  his  advice, 
and  the  imperfections  of  others,  his  undoing  should  not 
grow,  that  they  themselves  might  have  cause  to  pity 
him  in  his  age,  through  his  folly  and  their  persuasions. 
There,  my  Lord,  he  told  that  three  thousand  pounds 
nearly  went  out  of  his  living  to  his  children,  and  many 
other  sums  to  small  purpose  to  remember.  He  con- 
fessed he  sent  you  such  a  letter  as  you  write  of,  and 


HAMMER  AND   TONGS  303 

written  by  a  man  of  his,  but  altogether  by  his  direction. 
But  he  was  old,  lame  of  the  gout,  and  now  no  more  able 
to  write  himself.  He  spake  much  of  your  inconstancy  in 
your  friendships,  and  especially  to  my  Lord  of  Leicester ; 
sometimes,  as  you  favoured,  there  was  not  such  ;  and 
laboured  himself  to  rely  more  upon  him,  altogether 
misliking  such  humours  as  favoured  and  disfavoured  in 
such  sort,  and  in  so  short  a  time  ;  but,  for  himself, 
he  would  fly  such  variety,  and  perform  his  friendship 
and  faith.  Truly,  my  Lord,  he  used  many  of  these 
speeches  before  I  interrupted  him,  and  good  reason  I 
had  to  forbear,  for  he  spoke  not  without  grief,  as  1 
guess,  and  passion,  I  am  sure  ;  therefore  [I]  thought  best 
to  stay  until  the  storm  was  somewhat  overblown.  At  the 
last  I  besought  him  to  tell  me  whether  these  old  griev- 
ances were  not  remitted  upon  conference  between  your- 
selves ;  and  whether  your  abode  there  was  not  with  his 
good  allowance,  that  you  should  procure  yourself  to  be 
joined  with  him  in  his  offices  ;  further,  that  you  should, 
by  good  means,  procure  some  honourable  office  for 
your  better  understanding.  All  this  he  did  not  deny, 
but,  touching  his  discourse,  I  think  not  fit  to  set  it  down, 
my  messenger  is  so  uncertain,  and  my  meaning  to  do 
good,  if  I  may,  but  no  hurt.  He  is  old  and  unwieldy 
and  deceived  by  such  he  trusteth,  and  you  shun  to 
assist  him,  and  therefore  will  let  out  all ;  but  that  I 
believe  not.  I  found  one  thing  in  your  letter  :  I  said 
that  I  feared,  and  made  me  sorry  ;  that  your  favouring 
so  much  your  own  credit,  and  finding  so  small  means 
to  answer  your  creditors,  you  might  fall  into  some  hard 
course  ;  and,  before  these  words  were  all  out  of  my 
mouth,  he  said,  *  Yea,  marry,  some  desperation.' 
Therefore  I  took   hold  :    *  Good  my  Lord,  license  me 


304  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

to  speak  with  your  favour,  that  speak  nothing  by 
practice  again,  but  through  a  dutiful  mind  to  you,  now 
in  years,  and  for  yours,  by  course  of  nature  likely  to 
succeed  you.  If  he  should,  as  you  have  termed  it,  take 
any  desperate  way,  pass  into  those  parts  which  this 
doubtful  time  brings,  to  many  dangers,  and  especially  to 
our  nation,  were  not  this  peril  great,  and,  by  presump- 
tion, not  to  be  recovered  ?  You  cannot  be  ignorant, 
for  all  your  mislike,  what  a  son  you  have  ;  esteemed 
of  the  highest,  favoured  of  the  best,  and  the  best  judg- 
ments, and  how  much  he  differs  from  other  men's  sons 
of  your  own  conditions  ;  so  much  your  love,  care,  and 
regard  should  be  the  more  by  how  much  your  loss 
were  more  (to  be  balanced  by  reason)  than  all  the  rest 
put  together.  Your  country  may  and  will  challenge  a 
part  and  party  in  him,  as  a  wise  man,  fit  and  able  to 
serve  it.  You  yet  find  not  what  a  Lord  Talbot  you 
have  ;  but  if  he  should  by  any  extraordinary  accident 
be  taken  from  you,  and  not  to  be  recovered,  yourself, 
with  your  grief,  would  accompany  your  white  hair  to 
your  end  with  a  grave  full  of  cares  ;  and  who  doth 
sooner  enter  into  desperation  than  great  wits  accom- 
panied with  mighty  and  honourable  hearts,  which  hardly 
can  away  with  want,  but  never  with  discredit  ? '  This, 
my  Lord,  sunk  somewhat  into  him.  He  confessed 
much  of  this.  He  mused  long,  and  spake  little  :  he 
stayed,  standing  long,  without  complaining  of  his  legs 
(by  reason  he  was  earnest)  one  hour  and  a  half  at  the 
least  before  we  parted.  So,  in  many  doubts,  I  left  him, 
minding  to  send  such  letters  as  you  required,  to  Wel- 
beck  and  thence  to  be  sent  to  you  :  wherewith  I  took 
my  leave. 

"  1  will  never  take  upon  me  to  advise  you.     You  see 


HAMMER   AND   TONGS  305 

now  what  passed,  and  upon  what  grounds  ;  therefore 
resolve,  upon  temperate  blood  and  good  judgment,  and 
free  advice,  for  the  time  present  :  remembering  both  love 
and  duty,  and  that  you  deal  with  a  kind  man.  I  wish 
a  sudden  journey,  at  the  least  to  see  him  ;  he  must 
needs  take  it  well,  and  I  know  your  age  may  endure  it ; 
your  friends  desire  it,  and  I  among  the  rest  (to  see  you 
ere  I  go  from  these  parts)  that  loveth  you,  whose  being 
here  with  my  Lady,  would  have  made  this  country  to 
me  far  otherwise  than  it  is,  and  my  abode  much  longer 
than  it  is  like  to  be.  I  have  troubled  you  long.  The 
news  is  that  my  Lady  Talbot,  the  widow,  and  your 
sister  my  Lady  Mary,  with  my  Lady  Manners,  as  I  take 
it  came  to  Sheffield  this  night  past.  I  think  my  Lord 
will  to  Hatfield  the  next  week  that  cometh,  or  the  week 
following,  with  such  company  as  he  hath,  but  the 
certainty  I  know  not  :  but  whether  he  go  there,  or  no, 
I  wish  you  would  haste  to  meet  him.  My  brother, 
Mr.  Portington,  Mr.  Lascelles,  with  myself,  and 
Mr.  Fawley,  recommendeth  our  love  and  service  to 
your  good  Lordship.  I  beseech  you  let  me  be  re- 
membered humbly  unto  my  Lady,  and  to  good  Sir 
Charles  Candishe  and  his  family,  wishing  them  both  the 
best  happiness. 

'*  From  Lettwell,  the  13th  of  August,  1587. 

"  Your  Lordship's  poor  and  faithful  friend  ever, 

"Henry  Lee." 

The  Earl  of  Shrewsbury  to  Sir  Henry  Lee. 

"  Good  Sir  Henry  Lee, 

"  I  have  perused  that  enclosed  letter  you  sent  me 
within  yours,  and  do  account  you  most  faithful  and 
forward    to    do    good    where  you    profess    friendship. 


3o6  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

Neither  can  the  eloquence  of  the  one,  nor  the  earnest 
desire  of  the  other,  persuade  me  to  do  otherwise  in  that 
matter  than  I  have  already,  upon  good  consideration, 
determined.  My  son  compares  my  words  with  his  own 
conceits,  and  means  to  save  his  credit  as  shall  content 
me,  but  when  he  sealeth  1  will  assure.  I  proposed  to 
leave  him  in  better  case  than  my  father  left  me,  and  if  I 
give  him  so  much  as  I  cannot  withhold,  I  am  not  in  his 
debt.  I  forgave  him  all  his  faults,  but  I  promised  him 
not  that  I  would  trust  him.  He  can  bring  the  honour 
of  his  house  now  to  make  for  his  purpose,  but  he 
remembereth  not  how  he  went  about  to  dishonour  it. 
He  laboured  not  to  make  sure  my  Lord  of  Leicester  of 
their  side  that  went  about  to  accuse  his  father  of  treason. 
He  did  not  countenance  his  wife  and  her  mother  against 
me  in  all  their  bad  actions.  His  deceits  never  moved 
me  to  be  displeased.  Well,  if  they  did,  1  pronounce 
forgiveness  thereof  to  his  friend,  as  I  have  done  before 
unto  him.  He  knoweth  whereof  his  grief  grew  ;  let 
him  henceforth  avoid  the  occasions.  He  says  he  is  not 
overruled  by  his  wife,  but  attributes  that  to  my  speeches : 
but  I  say,  if  he  be  not  he  will  quickly  recover,  and  live 
better  of  his  annuity  than  1  could  do  when  I  bare  his 
name,  with  less  allowance.  Yet  (notwithstanding  his 
doubtful  words  of  your  welcome  hither,  in  respect  you 
have  moved  me  for  his  good)  I  beseech  you  come  ten 
times  for  every  one  past  ;  assuring  you  that  the  most 
eloquent  orator  in  England  can  do  no  more  with  me  than 
you  have,  till  I  perceive  a  new  course.  Thus,  with  my 
hearty  commendations,  I  bid  you  farewell. 
"Sheffield,  September  6th,  1587. 

"  Your  loving  friend, 

"  G.  Shrewsbury." 


HAMMER   AND   TONGS  307 

The  long  letter  from  Sir  Henry  Lee  gives  a  pathetic 
and  vivid  portrait  of  the  old  Government  official  who 
feels  himself  at  last  like  a  worn-out  tool,  unloved,  un- 
necessary to  the  world — save  when  his  position  as  a 
premier  peer  required  him  to  raise  levies  for  the 
defence  and  contest  of  Ireland,  or  county  matters  called 
him  from  retirement  in  his  military  and  judicial  capacity. 
To  the  very  end  he  was  a  prompt  official,  and  his 
family  motto,  "  Prest  d'Accomplir,"  his  watchword. 
In  1586  he  was  still  among  those  who  receive  urgent 
orders  to  arm  and  prepare  bodies  of  Derbyshire  fighting 
men,  and  must  give  his  attention  to  the  most  absurd 
details  of  uniform,  such  as  the  "  convenient  hose  and 
doublet,  and  a  cassock  of  motley  .  .  .  either  sea-green 
colour  or  russet,"  noted  among  the  regulations  issued 
by  his  fellows  of  the  Privy  Council. 

These  things  are,  however,  only  flashes  in  the  pan. 
He  is  getting  old.  All  the  world  was  growing  old,  and 
all  his  contemporaries,  in  the  phrase  of  the  day,  were 
"  a  little  thing  sickish."  The  intrepid  and  laborious 
Walsingham  is  described  as  being  "  troubled  with  his 
old  diseases  :  the  tympany  and  carnosity,"  and  so  is 
absent  from  Court.  Letters  still  flowed  in  to  the  Earl, 
news  of  the  Netherlands  campaign,  from  the  now 
depressed  Lord  Leicester,  the  Governor,  news  of  the 
Queen's  movements,  of  Spain,  of  the  legal  strife  of  his 
contemporaries  and  friends.  They  are  only  sticks  and 
straws  flung  into  the  deep  and  turgid  current  of  his 
lonely,  embittered  life. 

It  was  in  the  midst  of  such  disputes  as  these  that  the 
summons  had  come  to  him  from  Fotheringay. 


CHAPTER   XX 


FADING    GLORIES 


T_riS  own  household  and  many  of  his  tenants  were 
faithful  to  the  Earl  Marshal.  Fortunately  he  had 
not  at  the  moment  much  leisure  for  private  broodings. 
The  Babington  conspiracy  had  churned  up  the  old 
alarms  about  Mary,  the  Royal  Commission  for  her  trial 
was  being  appointed,  and,  though  he  was  fortunately 
able  to  plead  illness  as  an  excuse  for  once  more  repair- 
ing to  London  to  take  his  seat  in  this  important  meeting 
of  the  Council,  he  was  obliged  by  letter  to  Burghley  to 
assert  his  willingness  to  add  his  name  to  the  decree  of 
the  Privy  Council  in  regard  to  Mary's  sentence,  at 
the  same  time  enclosing  his  seal  and  giving  the  Lord 
Treasurer  full  authority  to  sign  for  him.  Did  he  at 
the  moment  of  writing  recall  that  broidered  motto 
which  must  have  flashed  at  him  many  times  from  the 
dais  which  his  prisoner  contrived  for  herself  in  her 
imprisonment :  "En  ma  fin  est  mon  commencement"  ? 
If  so,  the  pride  and  pathos  of  it  must  have  struck  home 
terribly.  For  he  too  was  nearing  his  end.  He  too  had 
naught  but  sorrow  in  his  heir,  and  though  Gilbert, 
Edward,  and  Henry  Talbot  still  lived  to  carry  on  his 
name,  it  could  not  be  in  a  very  hopeful  spirit  that  he 
thought  upon  the  continuance  of  his  line  so  long  as 
he  apprehended  the  renewal  of  family  strife  and  could 
not  forgive  or  love  again  his  high-handed  lady. 

308 


FADING   GLORIES  309 

Many  things  had  happened  to  Mary  since  they  parted, 
notably  the  failure  of  the  last  great  conspiracy  for  her 
freedom.  Of  all  these  he  was  fully  informed,  and  sums 
up  her  affairs  in  a  single  phrase  in  the  ensuing  letter  : — 

"  To  the  Right  Honourable  my  verie  good  Lord  the 
Lord  Burghley,  Lord  Thresorer  of  England. 

"  My  noble  good  Lord, 

**  I  have  received  your  Lordship's  letters  both  of 
the  1 2th  November  and  the  14th  of  the  same,  whereby 
I  find  myself  greatly  beholden  unto  your  Lordship  for 
your  good  remembrance  of  me,  with  the  proceeding  of 
the  foul  matters  of  the  Scots  Queen  ;  sentence  whereof, 
I  understand  by  your  Lordship,  is  given  and  confirmed, 
and  for  execution  to  be  had  accordingly.  I  perceive  it 
now  resteth  in  her  Majesty's  hands  ;  for  my  own  part 
I  pray  that  God  may  so  inspire  her  heart  to  take  that 
course  as  may  be  for  her  Majesty's  own  safety  ;  the 
which  I  trust  her  Majesty's  grave  wisdom  will  wisely 
foresee  ;  which  in  my  consent  cannot  be  without  speedy 
execution. 

"And  thus  wishing  to  your  good  Lordship  as  to 
myself,  do  bid  you  right  heartily  farewell.  Your  Lord- 
ship's assuredly,  ,,  c 

^  ■''  "SHREWSBURY. 

"Orton  Longville,  this  17th  November,  1586." 

In  spite  of  illness,  Shrewsbury  could  not  escape  the 
wretched  responsibility  of  assisting  at  the  tragedy  of 
Fotheringay.  There  he  was  forced,  on  February  8th, 
1587,  to  stand  upon  the  high  stage,  seven  feet  square 
and  five  feet  high,  to  receive  Mary  as  she  mounted  it  to 
her  death.     "At  the  two  upper  corners  were  two  stools 


3IO  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

set,"  runs  the  record,^  "one  for  the  Earl  of  Shrewsbury, 
another  for  the  Earl  of  Kent  ;  directly  between  the  said 
stools  was  placed  a  block  one  foot  high,  covered  with 
black,  and  before  that  stood  a  little  cushioned  stool  for 
the  Queen  to  sit  on  while  her  apparel  was  taken  off.  .  .  . 
Being  come  into  the  hall,  she  stayed  and  with  a  smiling 
countenance  asked  Shrewsbury  why  none  of  her  own 
servants  were  suffered  to  be  present.  He  answered  that 
the  Queen,  his  mistress,  had  so  commanded.  *  Alas,' 
quoth  she,  *  far  meaner  persons  than  myself  have  not 
been  denied  so  small  a  favour,  and  I  hope  the  Queen's 
Majesty  will  not  deal  so  hardly  with  me.'  *  Madam,' 
quoth  Shrewsbury,  *  it  is  so  appointed  to  avoid  two 
inconveniences :  the  one  that  it  is  likely  your  people  will 
shriek  and  make  some  fearful  noise  in  the  time  of  your 
execution,  and  so  both  trouble  you  and  us,  or  else  press 
with  some  disorder  to  get  of  your  blood  and  keep  it  for 
a  relic,  and  minister  offence  that  way.'  *  My  Lord,' 
she  answered,  *  I  pray  you  for  my  better  quietness  of 
mind  let  me  have  some  of  my  servants  about  me,  and  I 
will  give  you  my  word  that  they  shall  not  offend  in  any 
sort.'  Upon  which  promise  two  of  her  women  and  five 
of  her  men  were  sent  for,  who  coming  into  the  hall  and 
seeing  the  place  of  execution  prepared  and  their  sove- 
reign mistress  expecting  death,  they  began  to  cry  out  in 
most  woeful  and  pitiful  sort ;  wherewith  she  held  up 
her  hand,  willing  them  for  her  sake  to  forbear  and  be 
silent,  *  for,'  quoth  she,  *  I  have  passed  my  word  to 
these  lords  that  you  shall  be  quiet  and  not  offend  them.' 
And  presently  there  appeared  in  them  a  wonderful  show 
of  subjection  and  loyal  obedience  as  to  their  natural 
prince,  whom  even  at  the  instant  of  death  they  honoured 
»  By  "  A  Catholic,"  State  MSS. 


Photo  by  Richard  Kecne,  Ltd.,  Derby 

STATUE   OF  MARY   QUEEN   OF   SCOTS   AT   HARDWICK   HALL 


Page  310 


FADING   GLORIES  3fr 

with  all  reverence  and  duty.  For  though  their  breasts 
were  seen  to  rise  and  swell  as  if  their  wounded  hearts 
would  have  burst  in  sunder,  yet  did  they,  to  their  double 
grief,  forbear  their  outward  plaints  to  accomplish  her 
pleasure. 

"As  soon  as  she  was  upon  the  stage  there  came  to  her 
a  heretic  called  Doctor  Fletcher,  Dean  of  Peterborough, 
and  told  her  how  the  Queen  his  sovereign,  moved  with  an 
unspeakable  care  of  her  soul,  had  sent  him  to  instruct 
and  comfort  her  in  the  true  words  of  God.  At  which 
she  somewhat  turned  her  face  towards  him,  saying,  *Mr. 
Doctor,  I  will  have  nothing  to  do  with  you  nor  your 
doctrine  *  ;  and  forthwith  kneeled  down  before  the  block 
and  began  her  meditations  in  most  godly  manner. 
Then  the  doctor  entered  also  into  a  form  of  new- 
fashioned  prayers ;  but  the  better  to  prevent  the  hearing 
of  him,  she  raised  her  voice,  and  prayed  so  loud,  as  he 
could  not  be  understood.  The  Earl  of  Shrewsbury  then 
spoke  to  her  and  told  her  that  he  would  pray  with  her 
and  for  her.  *  My  Lord,'  quoth  she,  '  if  you  will  pray 
for  me  I  thank  you  ;  but,  in  so  doing,  pray  secretly  by 
yourself,  for  we  will  not  pray  together.'  Her  medita- 
tions ended,  she  arose  up  and  kissed  her  two  gentle- 
women, and  bowed  her  body  towards  her  men,  and 
charged  them  to  remember  her  to  her  sweet  son,  to 
whom  she  sent  her  blessing,  with  promise  to  pray  for 
him  in  heaven  ;  and  lastly  to  salute  her  friends,  and  so 
took  her  last  farewell  of  her  poor  servants. 

"  The  executioners  then  began,  after  their  rough  and 
rude  manner,  to  disrobe  her,  and  while  they  were  so 
doing,  she  looked  upon  the  noblemen,  and  smilingly 
said,  *  Now  truly,  my  Lords,  1  never  had  two  such 
grooms  waiting  on   me   before  ! '     Then,  being   ready 


312  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

for  the  block,  one  of  her  women  took  forth  a  hand- 
kerchief of  cambric — all  wrought  over  with  gold  needle- 
work— and  tied  it  about  her  face  ;  which  done,  Fletcher 
willed  her  to  die  in  the  true  faith  of  Christ.  Quoth 
she  :  *  I  believe  firmly  to  be  saved  by  the  passion  and 
blood  of  Jesus  Christ,  and  therein  also  I  believe  according 
to  the  faith  of  the  Ancient  Catholic  Church  of  Rome, 
and  therefore  I  shed  my  blood.' " 

After  this  the  Earl  went  home,  evidently  to  Sheffield, 
with  time  enough  to  brood  once  more  upon  his  sickness 
and  his  troubles.  In  1587  he  was  certainly  at  Wingfield 
with  his  wife — at  least  for  a  brief  space — for  he  wrote 
to  inform  Burghley  of  the  fact  in  obedience  to  her 
Majesty's  request.  But  he  was  still  thoroughly  sus- 
picious and  distrustful  of  her  attitude.  On  one  occasion, 
as  it  seems  by  the  following  letter  from  Nicholas  Kyn- 
nersley,  my  Lady  had  just  left  Wingfield  when  my  Lord 
sent  his  man  Gilbert  Dickenson  to  enquire  her  move- 
ments. The  letter  which  puts  the  magnificent  pair  in 
such  a  pitiful  light  is  relieved  by  a  gracious  allusion 
to  little  Arabella,  left  behind  at  Wingfield,  apparently 
in  Kynnersley's  charge  : — 

"  The  night  after  John  was  come  with  my  letter 
Elizabeth  told  me  that  Gilbert  Dickenson  came  to  her 
in  the  [bakehouse]  and  asked  if  your  Ho.  were  here ;  and 
she  answered  '  No.'  And  he  asked  when  you  went 
away,  and  she  said  '  Yesterday.'  He  asked  when  you 
would  come  again  ;  she  answered  *  Shortly  as  she 
thought.'  And  late  at  night  there  came  a  boy  from 
Sheffield  in  a  green  coat,  and  talked  with  them  in  the 
stable,  and  said  he  must  go  very  early  in  the  morning  to 
Sheffield  again.     What  the  meaning  of  these  questions 


FADING   GLORIES  313 

and  the  lackey  coming  so  late  and  going  so  early  in  the 
morning,  I  know  not,  except  it  be  to  bring  me  Lo. 
words  of  your  absence  here,  and  so  that  he  might  come 
upon  you  sudden  and  find  you  away.  So  I  leave  it  to 
your  Ho.  wisdom  to  consider  of  it  as  you  think  best ; 
but  I  think  good  you  were  there.  Mr.  Knifton  rode 
by  to-day  to  Sheffield  as  1  was  told,  and  called  not 
as  I  .  .  .  told  which  I  marvel  of.  My  La.  Arbella  at 
eight  of  the  clock  this  night  was  merry,  and  eats  her 
meat  well ;  but  she  went  not  to  the  school  these  six  days ; 
therefore  I  would  be  glad  of  your  La.  coming,  if  there 
were  no  other  matter  but  that.  So  I  beseech  the 
Almighty  preserve  your  La.  in  health,  and  send  you 
soon  a  good  and  comfortable  end  of  all  your  great 
troubles  and  griefs. 

"  Wingfield,  this  Tuesday,  the  5th  of  November,  at 
8  of  the  clock  at  night,  1588. 

"  Your  ho.  most  dutyful  bound  obedient  servant, 

"  Nicholas  Kinnslay. 

"To  the  right  Ho.  my  singular  good  La.  and  Mis- 
tress the  Countess  of  Salop  give  this  with  speed. "^ 

While  this  "  singular  good  lady"  was  still  busy  trying 
to  induce  the  Earl  to  live  with  her  "  in  house,"  he  had 
sundry  official  business  to  transact.  In  1588  he  was 
hard  at  work  "  routing  recusants,"  egging  on  the 
Sheffield  Commissioners  appointed  to  that  duty,  and 
certifying  himself  and  the  Queen  of  the  military 
efficiency  of  the  counties  under  his  lieutenancy — for 
the  Spanish  fleet  hovered  ever  round  the  English  coast. 
More  "  seminary  priests "  did  he  rout,  and  used  his 
energy  in  inducing  folk  to  go  to  the  Established  Church, 

1  Hunter's  Hallamshire 


314  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

offering  his  old  "  lame  body  "  for  the  Queen's  service, 
since  "her  quarrel  should  make  him  young  again." 
Within  a  few  months  of  his  death  he  is  mentioned  in 
State  records  as  having  successfully  pounced  upon  a 
certain  papistical  Lady  Foljambe  and  committed  her  to 
polite  imprisonment  in  the  house  of  her  relative. 

This  next  letter  from  Gilbert  and  Mary  Talbot  to 
their  mother  shows  entire  devotion  to  her  at  this  diffi- 
cult period,  and  is  happily  free  from  the  old  tale-bearing 
and  espionage  of  previous  years  : — 

"  Our  bounden  duty  most  humbly  remembered.  In 
like  humbleness  we  render  your  La.  thanks  for  your 
letter;  the  last  though  not  the  least  of  your  infinite  good- 
nesses towards  us  and  ours.  We  are  safely  come  hither 
to  Dunstable  (we  thank  God)  this  Shrove  Monday  at 
night ;  and  for  that  the  foul  way  is  past,  we  think  best 
to  return  your  La.  letter  again  from  hence. 

"  Such  news  as  on  the  Queen's  highways  we  have 
met  with,  your  La.  shall  now  understand.  First  that 
her  Majesty  (royally  in  person)  was  at  the  parliament 
house  the  first  day  of  this  parliament ;  where  Serjeant 
Snagge  was  admitted  for  the  Speaker  of  the  lower 
house.  My  Lord  of  Derby  is  Lord  Steward  during 
this  session.  That  yesterday  one  told  a  man  of  mine 
that  as  yet  nothing  of  any  moment  hath  been  touched 
in  the  lower  house,  neither  any  expectation  that  any 
great  matters  will  be  handled,  but  it  will  shortly  end. 
That  a  day  or  two  before  the  parliament  began,  the 
Lord  Chancellor  and  the  Lord  Treasurer,  with  one  or 
two  more  of  the  privy  council,  and  Mr.  Attorney  and 
Mr.  Solicitor  were  with  the  Earl  of  Arundel  in  the 
Tower ;    since   which    time    there    hath    been   no  such 


FADING   GLORIES  315 

speech  of  his  arraignment,  as  there  was  before.  This 
is  all  the  Queen's  highways  hath  afforded  us  of  news. 
Yet  further  we  hear  that  all  your  Ladyship's  .  .  .^  are 
very  well.  And  thus  in  haste,  most  humbly  beseeching 
your  La.  blessing  to  us  and  all  ours  who  pray  evermore 
to  the  most  highest  to  grant  unto  your  La.  all  content- 
ment with  long  life,  we  humbly  cease,  till  our  next  letter, 
which  shall  not  be  long. 

"Your  La.  most  humble  and  obedient  loving  children, 
"GiLB.  Talbott.     Mary  Talbott. 

"We  have  desired  your  La.  letter  men  to  bring  a  letter 
to  your  La.  from  Beskewood,  where  Mrs.  Markham's 
earnest  entreaty  made  us  to  leave  her  till  the  return 
thereof.  I  beseech  the  Almighty  to  send  your  La. 
my  La.  Arball  and  the  rest  of  your  La.'s  a  most  happy 
long  life. 

"To  my  Lady." 

The  date  of  this  is  1589.  Shrewsbury  by  this  time 
has  lapsed  into  retirement.  He  falls  finally  into  old 
age.  Elizabeth's  boasting  promise  that  she  would  give 
him  still  greater  proof  of  her  trust  he  would  be  justified 
in  receiving  with  a  sardonic  grunt.  Of  what  use  were 
her  favours  to  him  now  .''  She,  well  into  her  fifties, 
could  dance,  sing,  ride,  pester  her  ladies,  and  flirt  with 
her  gentlemen.  "The  Queen,"  writes  a  friend  of  the 
Talbots  in  1589,  "is  so  well  as  I  assure  you  :  six  or 
seven  gallyards  in  a  morning,  besides  music  and 
singing,  is  her  ordinary  exercise."  This  is  just  a  year 
after  the  death  of  her  adored  Leicester,  immediately 
upon  his  return  from  his  governorship  of  the  Nether- 

1  Blank  in  the  MS. 


3i6  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

lands,  which  he  had  so  hated.  The  days  of  his  departure 
for  that  task  were  the  days  of  Elizabeth's  disfavour. 
"  My  Lord,"  he  wrote  pathetically  to  Shrewsbury  in 
1585,  "no  man  feeleth  comfort  but  they  that  have 
cause  of  griefe,  and  no  men  have  so  much  neede  of 
reliefe  and  comfort  as  those  that  go  in  these  doubtful 
services.  I  pray  you,  my  Lord,  help  us  to  be  kept  in 
comfort,  for  that  we  wyll  hazard  our  lyfe  for  it." 
Shrewsbury  and  his  Countess  could  echo  that  cry 
from  the  depths  of  their  hearts,  for  they  too  were 
of  the  company  of  those  "  that  go  in  .  .  .  doubtful 
services." 

Thus  Leicester,  the  splendid  lover,  was  dead — of  a 
fever  caught  on  his  way  home  to  Kenilworth.  Elizabeth 
still  danced,  still  had  zest  and  appetite  for  masque  and 
ceremonial.  But  Shrewsbury  and  Burghley,  after  they 
had  written  their  stately  condolences  to  the  Queen, 
corresponded  with  one  another  about  health  matters. 
In  1589  the  former  sends  a  pathetic  old  man's  gift  to 
his  friend  of  ointment  for  his  joints  and  "  a  small  rug  " 
to  wrap  about  his  legs  "at  times  convenient,"  while  a 
flask  of  fine  "  oyle  of  roses"  was  in  these  days  more 
necessary  than  ale  to  the  once  stalwart  Earl  Marshal  of 
England. 

From  time  to  time  Burghley  sends  to  his  friend  the 
State  news,  with  suppressed  allusions  here  and  there  to 
his  illnesses  and  sorrows.  Lady  Burghley  was  dead, 
and  though  her  husband  was  able  to  write  in  his  old 
dignified  fashion  of  affairs  at  Court,  he  avoids  all  its 
recreations.  "The  Queen  is  at  Barn  Elms,  but  this 
night  I  will  attend  her  at  Westminster,  for  I  am  no 
man  meet  for  feastings,"  runs  a  pathetic  postscript  from 
him. 


Photo  by  Richard  Keene,  Ltd.,   Derby,  from  the  painting 
By  permission  of  his  Grace  the  Duke  of  Devonshire 


by  Zucchcro  at  Hardivick  Hall 


QUEEN    ELIZABETH 


Page  316 


FADING   GLORIES  317 

To  Elizabeth,  Shrewsbury  had  played  the  part  which 
she  assigned  to  one  of  her  lovers,  the  Duke  of  Anjou, 
to  whom  she  wrote  apropos  of  his  persistency  that  she 
should  never  cease  to  love  and  esteem  him  as  the  dog 
which,  being  often  chastised,  returns  to  its  master  : 
"comme  le  chien  qui  estant  souvent  batu  retourne  a  son 
maitre."  To  her  lovers  she  could  say  such  things  with 
impunity,  to  her  servants  she  only  implied  them.  Her 
beaten  yet  steadfast  hound,  Shrewsbury,  true  to  his 
family's  emblem  of  the  faithful  "Talbot  dog,"  lay 
chiefly  in  these  days  at  his  small  manor  of  Handsworth 
pouring  out  his  soul  in  letters.  There  seem  to  be 
none  available  from  his  wife  during  his  last  years, 
though  she  was  to  the  end  truly  anxious  to  be  on 
happier  terms  with  him,  and  made  every  possible  effort 
to  achieve  this.  Once  more  Elizabeth  used  her  good 
offices  with  the  honest  intent  to  restore  him  to  happi- 
ness. In  what  was  practically  the  last  private  letter  she 
ever  wrote  him,  despatched  in  December,  1589,  she 
addressed  him  as  "her  very  good  old  man,"  was  anxious 
for  news  of  his  health,  particularly  at  this  inclement 
season,  sympathised  with  his  gout,  and  begged  him  to 
permit  his  wife  sometimes  to  have  access  to  him  accord- 
ing to  her  long-cherished  wish.  He  seems  to  have 
brooded  heavily,  as  of  yore — to  a  conscience  so  tender 
the  brooding  nature  is  often  a  sorry  twin  brother — and 
to  have  discussed  the  matter  without  any  happy  result. 
About  this  time  he  wrote  to  his  intimate  friend  the 
Bishop  of  Lichfield  on  the  subject.  The  Bishop's  views 
are  set  forth  in  his  reply.  His  view  of  the  married 
estate  is  a  highly  morose  one.  Yet  he  begs  the  Earl, 
for  decency's  sake,  to  patch  up  the  quarrel  finally. 


3i8  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

The  Bishop  of  Lichfield  and  Coventry  to  the 
Earl  of  Shrewsbury. 

"  Right  honourable,  my  singular  good  Lord, 

"  I  am  bold  according  to  my  promise,  to  put 
you  in  remembrance  of  some  matters  already  passed 
between  us  in  talk.  It  is  an  old  saying,  and  as  true  as 
old,  a  thing  well  begun  is  half  ended.  It  pleased  your 
good  Lordship,  at  my  late  being  with  you,  to  confer 
with  me  about  divers  points  touching  the  good  estate 
of  this  our  shire,  whereof  yourself,  next  under  her 
Majesty,  is  the  chief  governor  ;  and  I  hope,  as  you 
then  begun  them  in  good  time,  so  very  shortly  they 
will  be  brought  to  very  good  perfection.  .  .  . 
Thus  much  for  those  common  affairs  we  had  in 
conference  ;  now  the  chief  and  last  matter  that  we 
talked  of,  and  a  matter  indeed  both  in  conscience  chiefly 
to  be  regarded  of  you,  and  in  duty  still  to  be  urged 
and  called  upon  by  me,  was  the  good  and  godly  recon- 
ciliation of  you  together,  I  mean  my  Lordship  and  my 
Lady  your  wife.  I  humbly  thank  your  good  Lordship 
you  were  content  then  to  take  my  motion  in  good  part, 
and  to  account  it  for  a  good  piece  of  mine  ofl'ice  and 
charge  to  travel  in  such  cases,  as  indeed  it  is,  and  there- 
fore, 1  trust  you  will  be  as  willing  now  to  see  me  write 
as  you  were  then  to  hear  me  speak  in  that  matter  ;  and 
the  more,  because  I  speak  and  write  as  well  of  mere  love 
and  goodwill  to  yourself,  as  for  any  respect  also  of  dis- 
charging my  duty  unto  God  ;  and  yet,  also,  you  must 
think  chiefly  and  principally  that  I  speak  and  write  to 
discharge  my  duty  to  God,  and  must  take  all  that  I  do 
to  proceed,  not  as  from  a  common  friend  and  hanger-on, 
but  as  from  a  special  ghostly  father,  stirred  up  of  God 


FADING   GLORIES  319 

purposely,  as  I  hope,  to  do  good  unto  you  both  by  my 
ghostly  advice.  My  honourable  good  Lord,  I  cannot 
see  but  that  it  must  needs  rest  as  a  great  clog  to  your 
conscience,  if  you  consider  the  matter  as  it  is,  and  will 
weigh  the  case  according  to  the  rule  of  God's  word :  I 
say  I  cannot  see  but  that  it  must  needs  rest  and  remain 
a  great  clog  and  burthen  to  your  conscience  to  live 
asunder  from  the  Countess  your  wife,  without  her  own 
good  liking  and  consent  thereto  ;  for,  as  I  have  told 
you  heretofore,  it  is  the  plain  doctrine  of  Saint  Paul  that 
the  one  should  not  defraud  the  other  of  due  benevolence 
nor  of  mutual  comfort  and  company,  but  with  the 
agreement  of  both  parties,  and  that  also  but  for  a  time, 
and  only  to  give  yourselves  to  fasting  and  prayer.  This 
is  the  doctrine  of  Saint  Paul,  and  this  doctrine  Christ 
Himself  confirmed  in  the  Gospel  when  He  forbiddeth  all 
men  to  put  away  their  wives  unless  for  adultery,  a  thing 
never  suspected  in  my  Lady  your  wife.  I  could  bring 
forth  many  authorities  and  examples  both  of  the  Holy 
Scriptures  and  other,  profane  writers,  to  prove  that 
such  kind  of  separations  have  always  been  holden  un- 
lawful and  ungodly,  not  only  among  the  people  of  God, 
but  also  among  the  heathen  themselves  that  never  knew 
God  ;  and  I  could  likewise  show  what  fearful  judg- 
ments of  God  have  followed  such  unlawful  separations, 
and  what  great  plagues  have  fallen  upon  not  only  the 
offenders  themselves,  but  also  upon  their  houses  and 
children,  and  all  their  posterity  after  them  ;  but  I  shall 
not  need  to  use  any  such  discourse  to  your  Lordship, 
because  so  wise,  so  grave,  so  well  disposed  as  indeed 
you  are  of  yourself  if  other  evil  counsellors  did  not 
draw  you  to  the  contrary  ;  who  also  shall  not  want 
their  part  in   the  play,   for,   as   the   proverb    saith,   so 


320  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

experience  proveth  the  same  to  be  true,  consilium  malum 
consultori  pessimum,  evil  counsel  falleth  out  worst  to  the 
counsel  giver. 

"  But  some  will  say  in  your  Lordship's  behalf  that 
the  Countess  is  a  sharp  and  bitter  shrew,  and  therefore 
like  enough  to  shorten  your  life  if  she  should  keep  you 
company.  Indeed,  my  good  Lord,  I  have  heard  some 
say  so,  but  if  shrewdness  or  sharpness  may  be  a  just 
cause  of  separation  between  a  man  and  wife,  I  think 
few  men  in  England  would  keep  their  wives  long  ;  for 
it  is  a  common  jest,  yet  true  in  some  sense,  that  there 
is  but  one  shrew  in  all  the  world  and  every  man  hath 
her  ;  and  so  every  man  might  be  rid  of  his  wife  that 
would  be  rid  of  a  shrew.  My  honourable  good  Lord, 
I  doubt  not  but  your  great  wisdom  and  experience  hath 
taught  you  to  bear  some  time  with  the  woman  as  with 
the  weaker  vessel ;  and  yet,  for  the  speeches  I  have 
had  with  her  Ladyship  in  that  behalf,  I  durst  pawn  all 
my  credit  unto  your  Lordship  (and,  if  need  be,  also 
bind  myself  in  any  great  bond),  she  will  so  bridle  herself 
that  way,  beyond  the  course  of  other  women,  that  she 
will  rather  bear  with  your  Lordship,  than  look  to  be 
borne  withal  ;  and  yet  to  be  borne  withal  sometimes 
is  not  amiss  for  the  best  and  wisest  and  patientest  of 
us  all.  But  peradventure  some  of  your  friends  will 
object  greater  matter  against  her ;  as  that  she  hath 
sought  to  overthrow  your  whole  house  ;  but  those  that 
say  so  I  think  are  not  your  Lordship's  friends,  but 
rather  her  Ladyship's  enemies,  and  their  speech  carrieth 
no  resemblance  of  truth  ;  for  how  can  it  be  likely  that 
she  should  seek  or  wish  the  overthrow  of  you  or  your 
house,  when  not  only,  being  your  wife,  your  prosperity 
must    needs   profit   her   very    much,   but   also,   having 


FADING   GLORIES  321 

joined  her  house  with  your  house  in  marriage,  your 
long  life  and  honourable  state  must  needs  glad  her 
heart  to  the  uttermost ;  if  not  for  your  own  sake,  yet 
for  the  issue  of  both  your  bodies,  whom  she  loveth, 
I  dare  say,  as  her  own  life,  and  would  not  see  by  her 
goodwill  to  fall  into  any  decay,  either  of  honour  or  any 
other  good  state  of  life  or  livings  ;  although,  also,  I 
dare  say  she  wisheth  all  good  unto  you  for  your  own 
sake,  as  well  as  theirs,  or  else  she  would  not  be  so 
desirous  of  your  life  and  company  as  she  is.  And 
therefore,  I  beseech  your  Lordship  remove  all  such 
conceits  far  from  you  as  are  beaten  into  your  head  by 
evil  counsellors,  and  rather  think  this  unlawful  separa- 
tion to  be  a  stain  to  your  house,  and  a  danger  to  your 
life  ;  for  that  God,  indeed,  is  not  well  pleased  with 
it.  Who  will  visit  with  death  or  sickness  all  that  live 
not  after  His  laws,  as  of  late  yourself  had  some  little 
touch  or  taste  given  you  of  it  by  those  or  the  nearest 
friends  of  those  whom  you  most  trusted  about  you. 
For  my  own  part,  I  wish  your  Lordship  all  good,  even 
from  my  heart ;  both  long  life  and  honourable  state, 
with  all  increase  of  honour,  and  joy  and  comfort  in  the 
Lord  to  your  own  heart's  desire  ;  but  yet  both  I  and 
you,  and  all  of  us  that  are  God's  children,  must  think 
that  such  visitations  are  sent  us  of  God  to  call  us  home, 
and  if  we  despise  them  when  they  are  sent.  He  will 
lay  greater  upon  us.  Thus  I  am  bold,  my  good  Lord, 
both  in  the  fear  of  God  and  in  goodwill  towards  your- 
self, to  discharge  the  duty  of  your  well-willing  ghostly 
father,  and  if  your  Lordship  accept  it  well,  as  I  hope 
you  will,  I  beseech  you  let  me  understand  it  by  a  line 
or  two,  that  I  may  give  God  thanks  for  it  ;  if  not, 
I  have   done  my  part ;   the  success  I   leave  to  God  ; 

Y 


322  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

and  rest  yours,  notwithstanding,  in  what  I   may,  and 
so  I  humbly  take  my  leave  of  your  good  Lordship. 
"From  Eccleshall,  the  I2th  of  October,  1590. 
"  Your  Lordship's  in  all  duty  to  command, 

"W.  Coven,  and  Lich." 

It  is  not  necessary  to  lay  stress  on  the  sheer  fatuity 
and  unwisdom  of  three-fourths  of  such  a  letter.  But 
the  gross  injustice  of  it  has  never  been  fully  appreciated 
by  historians.  In  the  first  place,  Bess  of  Hardwick  was 
not  a  mere  shrew — as  has  been  amply  set  forth.  She 
was  a  woman  of  great  capabilities,  and  superabundant 
driving  power  which,  insufficiently  controlled,  ended  in 
a  blindness  to  any  point  of  view  but  her  own,  and  so 
caused  her  to  utter  under  provocation,  stress,  and  dis- 
appointment hard  and  foolish  things  which  the  Earl 
could  not  forget.  The  estrangement  had  certainly  gone 
too  far  for  peace.  The  time  for  such  things  as  a  re- 
newal of  trust  and  love  between  the  two  was  past. 
Within  a  month  or  two — in  the  January  of  1591 — the 
Earl  died.  Gossip — wise  after  the  event — declared  that 
with  his  last  breath  he  groaned  over  the  possibilities 
of  disaster  which  would  descend  upon  his  family  through 
his  wife's  schemes  for  Arabella. 

In  the  previous  year  the  great  Walsingham,  worn  out 
by  stress  of  affairs  and  labour,  succumbed  also — to  his 
"  tympany  and  carnosity." 

And,  since  the  world  and  his  wife  must  be  amused, 
and  the  Queen  needed  distraction  from  heavy  cares  of 
State,  she  went  forth  to  be  entertained  at  a  public  f^te 
a  day  after  the  death  of  her  much-enduring  "  good  old 
man." 

To  the  last  he  could  not  forget  the  great  slander. 


FADING   GLORIES  323 

Even  his  tomb  witnesses,  in  his  own  words,  to  his  virtue. 
He  must  have  brooded  carefully  over  this  epitaph  and 
the  memorial  which  bears  it  in  Sheffield  Church.  All 
allusion  to  his  second  wife  is  omitted,  and  in  regard  to 
the  scandal  he  urges  the  fact  of  his  official  presence  at  the 
execution  of  Mary  as  the  surest  proof  of  the  innocence 
of  his  relations  with  her.  All  he  asked  of  his  posterity 
was  that  upon  his  death  the  date  should  be  added  to  the 
tomb.     This  they  omitted  to  do. 


CHAPTER   XXI 


HEIR    AND    DOWAGER 


A  FAMILY  circle  made  up  of  ingredients  so  pug- 
nacious  could  scarcely  be  expected  to  act  unani- 
mously when  it  came  to  a  question  of  the  division  of 
property  after  the  Earl's  death.  Instantly  the  fragments 
in  the  Talbot  kaleidoscope  rearranged  themselves.  It 
was  my  Lady  who  now  fought  practically  single-handed, 
and  the  new  Earl,  Gilbert,  and  her  own  child  Mary 
were  against  her.  They  fought,  as  usual,  in  letters,  and 
confided  largely  in  their  friends.  Gilbert  and  Mary 
in  one  of  their  previous  letters  had  called  upon  the 
Almighty  "  speedily  to  grant  your  Ladyship  all  con- 
tentment with  long  life."  When  this  new  family  feud 
began  they  must  have  regretted  that  wish.  Had  they 
foreseen  that  they  had  to  encounter  her  strong  will  and 
keen  business  instinct  for  the  space  of  another  seventeen 
years  they  might  possibly  have  compromised  matters 
more  quickly.  The  fact  is  Gilbert  and  Mary  were 
innately  pugnacious.  It  is  written  in  their  faces  as 
they  look  down  from  the  walls  of  the  great  picture- 
gallery  of  Hardwick.  Neither  face  is  unrefined,  both 
are  shrewd,  and  Mary's,  at  any  rate,  has,  added  to  a 
touch  of  scorn,  a  certain  humorous  sparkle.  Neither, 
however,  possesses  the  dignity  of  the  parents.  Mary 
has  not  her  mother's  good  features  and  innately  aristo- 

324 


HEIR   AND   DOWAGER  325 

cratic   air.     Gilbert   lacks    the   breadth  and    steadiness 
expressed  by  the  Earl. 

Gilbert  had  taken  his  place  now  as  seventh  Earl, 
received  the  usual  pompous  letters  of  condolence  from 
Lord  Burghley  and  others,  and  was  duly  admitted  to 
the  order  of  the  Garter.  His  notions  of  earldom 
expressed  themselves  chiefly  in  a  gorgeous  style  of 
living  which  (in  Hunter's  opinion)  "  alone  earned  for 
him  the  title  of  the  great  and  glorious  Earl  of  Shrews- 
bury," irrespective  of  either  intellectual  or  official  dis- 
tinction. Naturally  his  wife  with  her  "  pomp  and  court- 
like ways  "  was  in  full  accord  with  him,  and  the  renewal 
of  the  "  All-for-Money "  family  fray  was  inevitable. 
In  addition  to  his  strife  with  the  old  Countess,  he 
fought  with  Henry  Talbot  his  younger  brother,  with 
Lady  Talbot  the  widow  of  his  elder  brother  Francis, 
with  his  own  mother's  people  the  Manners  family, 
with  a  prominent  neighbour  Sir  Richard  Wortley  of 
Wortley,  and,  as  aforesaid,  with  the  Stanhopes  of  Not- 
tinghamshire, to  whom  his  wife  despatched  the  violent 
message  of  hatred  quoted  in  a  previous  chapter.  It 
stands  to  reason  also  that  he  could  not  live  at  peace 
with  his  tenantry.  As  an  ordinary  man  he  does  not 
seem  to  have  been  mentally  vigorous  enough,  as  a  man 
of  the  world  not  sufficiently  master  of  his  hates  and 
prejudices  to  come  to  an  understanding  with  them.  It 
was,  after  all,  the  most  difficult  task  of  his  Lordship,  and 
one  for  which  his  Court  and  town  experiences  had  not 
fitted  him  in  the  least.  Most  pitiful  of  all  was  his 
deadly  feud  with  his  brother  Edward.  As  Gilbert's 
letters  show,  this  arose  entirely  out  of  the  dissensions 
over  property,  though  Edward  and  Henry,  appointed  as 
executors  of  their  father's  will,  were  wise    enough   to 


326  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

decline  the  task  and  allow  It  to  devolve  on  to  the 
experienced  shoulders  of  their  splendid  stepmother. 

This  feud  between  Edward  and  Gilbert  flourished 
wickedly.  There  is  no  need  to  bore  the  reader  with 
the  insertion  of  the  pages  of  truculent  correspondence 
which  ensued.  Gilbert  eventually  challenged  the  other 
to  a  duel,  and  Edward  firmly  declined  to  fight  his  own 
flesh  and  blood.  From  the  ancient  chlvalric  standpoint 
this  may  look  like  a  lack  of  virility.  But  to  fight  would 
have  been  the  height  of  unwisdom  for  two  young, 
well-born  men,  fathers  of  families,  and  In  circum- 
stances that  would  have  been  wholly  prosperous  except 
for  their  absurd  expenditure.  It  Is  this  very  refusal  of 
Edward  Talbot  which  causes  one  to  discount  the  cur- 
rent story — set  forth  with  the  support  of  arguments, 
probabilities,  and  reasons  in  the  Harleian  MSS. — to  the 
intent  that  Edward  conspired.  In  Medici  fashion,  with 
Gilbert's  own  physician,  Dr.  Wood,  against  Gilbert's 
life,  the  medium  chosen  for  the  murder  being  a  subtly 
poisoned  pair  of  perfumed  gloves. 

Thus  It  was  as  well  for  the  whole  family  that  my 
Lady  came  to  the  fore  again  and  wrestled  with  Gilbert, 
for  he  had  flattery  enough  from  some  of  his  friends  to 
feed  his  vanity  In  his  new  position.  The  garrulous 
Richard  Topcllffe  covered  several  pages  In  a  letter  ex- 
pressing gladness  that  it  had  pleased  God  to  set  the  heir 
in  the  seat  of  his  noble  ancestors.  "  At  such  an  altera- 
tion of  a  house  as  now  hath  chanced  by  your  father's 
death,  there  is  ever  great  expecting  towards  the  rising 
of  the  sun."  It  is  an  absurd,  toadying  letter,  of  which 
the  only  sincere  part  is  the  writer's  definition  of  it  at 
the  close  as  "  my  tedious  dream."  Of  such  letters 
Gilbert    received    his    share,  like    his    father,   and   was 


HEIR   AND   DOWAGER  327 

flooded  with  all  sorts  of  other  correspondence — official, 
semi-official,  and  private.  He  assumes  his  father's  office 
in  the  lieutenancy  of  three  counties,  issues  his  orders 
for  armament.  He  meant  excellently  well  no  doubt, 
but  was  not  in  the  worldly  sense  a  success.  He  could 
never,  like  his  father,  have  borne  the  Queen's  heavy 
burdens  from  sheer  devotion  to  a  patriotic  ideal  and 
from  horror  of  incurring  her  disfavour.  His  disputes 
with  his  tenantry  so  overpowered  him  that  he  was  forced 
to  refer  the  matter  to  the  Queen.  Her  opinion  was 
against  him  and  on  the  side  of  the  tenants.  Mean- 
while the  Stanhope  quarrel  became  a  regular  county 
affair,  and,  as  Hunter  puts  it,  "  was  pursued  by  both 
parties  with  such  precipitation  and  violence  that  it  was 
rendered  impossible  for  the  neighbouring  gentry  to  pre- 
serve neutrality."  It  is  not  surprising  that  five  years 
after  his  father's  death  he  was  thoroughly  out  of  favour. 
Yet  Elizabeth  could  be  very  kind  to  his  children.  One 
of  her  gentleman  ushers,  his  friend,  Richard  Braken- 
bury,  writing  from  Court,  sent  him  in  a  letter  to 
Rufford  a  pretty  picture  of  the  way  she  fondled  his 
little  girl  : — 

"  If  I  should  write  how  much  her  Majesty  this  day 
did  make  of  the  little  lady  your  daughter,  with  often 
kissing  (which  her  Majesty  seldom  useth  to  any)  and 
then  amending  her  dressing  with  pins,  and  still  carrying 
her  with  her  Majesty  in  her  own  barge,  and  so  into 
the  Privy  Council  lodgings,  and  so  homeward  from  the 
running,  you  would  scarce  believe  me.  Her  Majesty 
said  (as  true  it  is)  that  she  is  very  like  my  Lady  her 
grandmother.  She  behaved  herself  with  such  modesty 
as  I  pray  God  she  may  possess  at  twenty  years  old." 


328  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

Indirectly  the  magnificent  Dowager  could  only  be 
gratified  by  such  favours.  Her  main  energies  now 
were  given  to  "  pushing  "  Arabella  in  the  great  world. 
Incidentally  also  it  was  her  affair  to  go  on  building, 
building,  that  she  might  live  and  flourish.  Constructive 
imagination  of  a  certain  kind  she  undoubtedly  had. 
She  loved  grandeur,  comfort,  and  domestic  beauty, 
and  could  conceive  and  plan  their  achievement.  She 
was  led  to  her  building  by  her  sense  of  importance, 
coupled  with  the  praiseworthy  desire  to  establish  her 
offspring  in  a  fine  house,  and  so  increase  their  social 
advantages.  That  was  the  beginning,  and  her  practical 
imagination  aided  her.  But  rumour  says  that  it  is 
not  by  the  golden  light  of  imagination  that  she  was 
helped  to  expand  and  continue  her  enterprises,  but 
by  the  glare  of  morbid  superstition.  Some  sooth- 
sayer she  met — history  does  not  say  at  what  period 
of  her  life — told  her  that  so  long  as  she  went  on 
building  she  would  never  die.  All  hard-headed  as 
she  was  she  has  not  escaped  the  imputation  of  credence 
in  fortune-telling,  for  she  went  on  building  to  the  end. 
Moreover,  there  is  the  more  excuse  for  her  superstition, 
since,  as  we  know,  crystal-gazers  and  conjurers  with 
their  charmed  plates  of  gold,  their  phials  and  symbols, 
came  and  went  in  the  country  and  about  the  English 
and  foreign  courts.  It  is  more  than  possible  that 
such  persons,  though  included  in  Shrewsbury's  roll 
of  "  practicers "  and  suspects,  occasionally  found  their 
way  into  my  Lady's  parlour  in  Chatsworth  or  Hard- 
wick.  There  is  behind  this  old  soothsayer's  story  a 
deeper  meaning.  She  built  that  she  might  exist,  but 
in  her  building  she  truly  lived,  for  in  her  strongly 
constructive   instinct  all   her   higher  faculties,  in  their 


HEIR   AND   DOWAGER  329 

finest,  their  Aristotelian  sense,  found  their  outlet,  while 
her  heart  realised  a  certain  happiness. 

By  this  time  she  was  just  seventy,  and  still  in  full 
vigour,  though  tolerably  scarred  and  embittered  in 
heart  and  soul.  Through  Arabella  and  her  second 
son  William,  both  of  whom  she  really  seems  to  have 
adored,  she  had  still  a  great  hold  upon  life.  It  was 
her  main  business  now  to  fight  old  age,  face  her  fourth 
widowhood  resolutely,  live  in  comfort,  and  provide 
for  those  she  loved  or  who  were  in  any  sense  dependent 
on  her. 

Arabella  cannot,  of  course,  have  had  a  particularly 
joyous  or  smooth  childhood  under  the  sway  of  that 
keen,  tempestuous  temperament,  but  at  any  rate  she 
imbibed  and  inherited  an  enormous  amount  of  vitality. 
She  was  too  young  to  be  overcast  by  the  pitiful,  short- 
lived love  story  of  her  parents,  and  her  grandmother 
brought  her  up  jealously  and  in  an  atmosphere  of  state 
which  helped  to  single  her  out  from  the  other  grand- 
children of  the  family  and  from  the  family  circle.  A 
letter  from  the  Countess,  written  when  Arabella  was 
but  a  baby,  may  be  included  here  : — 

"  The  Countess  of  Shrewsbury  to  Lord  Burghley,  respecting 
the  assignment  of  an  Income  to  the  Lady  Arabella,  a.d. 
1582.' 

"  After  my  very  hearty  commendations  to  your  good 
Lo.  where  it  pleased  the  Queen's  Majesty  my  most 
gracious  Sovereign,  upon  my  humble  suit  to  grant  unto 
my  late  daughter  Lennox  four  hundred  pounds,  and  to 
that  her  dear  and  only  daughter  Arbella  two  hundred 

1  Ellis's  Letters 


330  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

pounds  yearly  for  their  better  maintenance,  assigned 
out  of  part  of  the  land  of  her  inheritance  :  whereof 
the  four  hundred  pounds  is  now  at  her  Majesty's  dis- 
position by  the  death  of  my  daughter  Lennox,  whom 
it  pleased  God  (I  doubt  not  in  mercy  for  her  good,  but 
to  my  no  small  grief,  in  her  best  time)  to  take  out  of 
this  world,  whom  I  cannot  yet  remember  but  with  a 
sorrowful  troubled  mind.  I  am  now,  my  good  L.,  to 
be  an  humble  suitor  to  the  Queen's  Majesty  that  it 
may  please  her  to  confirm  that  grant  of  the  whole  six 
hundred  pounds  yearly  for  the  education  of  my  dearest 
jewel  Arbella,  wherein  I  assuredly  trust  to  her  Majesty's 
most  gracious  goodness,  who  never  denied  me  any  suit, 
but  by  her  most  bountiful  and  gracious  favours  every 
way  hath  so  much  bound  me  as  I  can  never  think 
myself  able  to  discharge  my  duty  in  all  faithful  service 
to  her  Majesty.  I  wish  not  to  leave  after  I  shall 
willingly  fail  in  any  part  thereof  to  the  best  of  my 
power.  And  as  I  know  your  L.  hath  special  care  for 
the  ordering  of  her  Majesty's  revenues  and  of  her 
estate  every  way,  so  trust  I  you  will  consider  of  the 
poor  infant's  case,  who  under  her  Majesty  is  to  appeal 
only  unto  your  Lo.  for  succour  in  all  her  distresses  ; 
who,  I  trust,  cannot  dislike  of  this  my  suit  on  her 
behalf,  considering  the  charges  incident  to  her  bringing 
up.  For  although  she  were  ever  where  her  mother  was 
during  her  life,  yet  can  I  not  now  like  she  should  be 
here  nor  in  any  place  else  where  1  may  not  sometimes 
see  her  and  daily  hear  of  her,  and  therefore  charged 
with  keeping  house  where  she  must  be  with  such  as 
is  fit  for  her  standing,  of  whom  I  have  special  care,  not 
only  such  as  a  natural  mother  hath  of  her  best  beloved 
child,  but  much   more  greater  in  respect  how  she  is  in 


From  a  photo  I'y  Richard  Keene,  Ltd.,   Derby,  after  the  painting  at  Hardzvick  h 
Bv  permission  of  his  Grace  the  Duke  oj  Devonshire 

ARABELLA   STUART 


Page  333 


HEIR   AND   DOWAGER  331 

blood  to  her  Majesty  :  albeit  one  of  the  poorest  as 
depending  wholly  on  her  Majesty's  gracious  bounty  and 
goodness,  and  being  now  upon  seven  years,  and  very 
apt  to  learn,  and  able  to  conceive  what  shall  be  taught 
her.  The  charge  will  so  increase  as  I  doubt  not  her 
Majesty  will  well  conceive  the  six  hundred  pounds 
yearly  to  be  little  enough,  which  as  your  Lo.  knoweth 
is  but  so  much  in  money,  for  that  the  lands  be  in  lease, 
and  no  further  commodity  to  be  looked  for  during 
these  few  years  of  the  child's  minority.  All  which  I 
trust  your  L.  will  consider  and  say  to  her  Majesty  what 
you  think  thereof ;  and  so  most  heartily  wish  your  L. 
well  to  do. 

"  Sheffield  this  6th  day  of  May. 

"  Your  L.  most  assured  loving  friend, 

"E.  Shrewsbury. 

"  To  the  right  honourable  and  my  very  good  Lord 
the  Lord  Burghley,  L.  Treasurer  of  England." 

To  this  Arabella,  aged  seven,  adds  her  pretty  French 
postscript  : — 

"  Je  prieray  Dieu  Monsr.  vous  donner  en  parfaicte 
en  entiere  sante,  tout  heureux  et  bon  succes,  et  seray 
tousjours  preste  a  vous  faire  tout  honneur  et  service. 

"Arbella  Steward." 

The  new  Hardwick,  the  present  hall,  was  not  actually 
finished  till  seven  years  after  the  Earl's  death,  and  there 
and  at  the  older  house  the  Dowager  and  the  semi-royal 
grandchild  spent  many  years  together.  The  former 
was,  as  has  been  instanced,  busy  betimes  with  making 
matches  for  the  child.     After  the  disappointment  about 


332  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

Lord  Leicester's  little  son,  the  old  ambitious  spirit 
flares  up  gloriously  in  the  proposal  that  Arabella,  who 
was  just  ten  years  old,  should  marry  James  of  Scotland. 
She  was  suggested  by  Walsingham,  presumably  at  the 
Queen's  desire,  as  an  alternative  bride  to  a  Danish 
princess.  James  was  not  inclined  to  make  up  his  mind 
at  the  moment,  and  in  the  following  year  another  bride- 
groom was  suggested — Rainutio,  son  of  the  Duke 
of  Parma.  Since  the  Duke  was  suspected  of  laying 
claim  to  the  English  throne,  these  negotiations  were 
carried  on  secretly,  not  so  secretly,  however,  that  they 
escaped  the  knowledge  of  Burghley.  State  papers  show 
that  he  was  well  aware  that  a  servant  of  Sir  Edward 
Stafford  was  employed  "  from  beyond  the  sea,  to  practise 
with "  Arabella  about  this  marriage.  "  He  was  sent 
once  before  for  her  picture,  and  has  been  thrice  to 
England  this  year,"  is  the  conclusion  of  the  secret 
information  sent  to  Court.  It  is  likely  that  the  picture 
named  might  be  a  copy  of  one  of  the  two  hanging 
now  in  the  great  gallery  at  Hardwick  Hall.  Both  are 
deeply  interesting,  and  one,  in  which  she  is  shown  as 
a  little,  dignified,  grandly  dressed  child  of  two  holding 
a  gay  stiff  doll,  is  very  moving.  The  other,  of  which 
the  original  seems  to  be  at  Welbeck,  shows  her  "  in  her 
hair,"  in  the  old  phrase.  Part  of  her  hair  is  drawn  over 
a  puff  above  her  forehead  and  adorned  with  a  drop 
jewel,  and  the  rest  hangs  down  fine  and  straight  like 
a  soft  veil  behind  her  shoulders.  Her  dress  is  white, 
with  sleeves  either  of  ermine  or  white  velvet  with  black 
spots  ;  her  gold  fan  has  a  dull  red  cord,  and  a  girdle 
of  jewels  is  about  her  waist.  On  either  side  of  her 
hangs  a  portrait  of  James  VI  as  a  little  boy.  In  one 
he  carries  a  hawk — symbol  of  the  passion  for  sport  which 


/. ,  Derby,  frotn  the  picture 
ICC  the  Duke  of  Dezonshi><. 


ARABELLA   STUART 


Page  332 


HEIR  AND   DOWAGER  333 

seems  to  have  been,  save  for  his  obstinacy,  his  only 
strong  point ;  in  the  other  he  is  in  correct  fashionable 
dress  and  plumed  cap,  and  wears  a  tiny  sword — symbol 
of  the  courage  he  never  possessed,  and  forerunner  of  the 
full-grown  weapon  which  he  could  carry  with  swagger, 
but  dared  not  use  on  his  mother's  behalf.  Even  as  his 
little  presence  hedges  Arabella  in  this  gallery  on  both 
sides,  so  in  life  his  position  dominated  hers  most  cruelly 
in  years  to  come. 

The  proposed  marriage  alluded  to,  which  set  abroad 
all  manner  of  fears  of  conspiracy  in  connection  with 
Arabella  in  1592,  caused  Lord  Burghley  to  write  warn- 
ings to  the  Countess.  All  the  old  caution  and  authority 
show  in  her  reply  : — 

The  Countess  of  Shrewsbury  to  Lord  Burghley :  represent- 
ing her  care  of  the  Lady  Arabella} 

"  My  honourable  good  Lord, — I  received  your  Lord- 
ship's letter  on  Wednesday  towards  night,  being  the 
20th  of  this  September,  by  a  servant  of  Mr.  John 
Talbott,  of  Ireland.  My  good  Lord,  I  was  at  the  first 
much  troubled  to  think  that  so  wicked  and  mischievous 
practices  should  be  devised  to  entrap  my  poor  Arbell 
and  me,  but  I  put  my  trust  in  the  Almighty,  and  will 
use  such  diligent  care  as  I  doubt  not  but  to  prevent 
whatsoever  shall  be  attempted  by  any  wicked  persons 
against  the  poor  child.  I  am  most  bound  to  her 
Majesty  that  it  pleased  her  to  appoint  your  Lordship 
to  give  me  knowledge  of  this  wicked  practice,  and  I 
humbly  thank  your  Lordship  for  advertising  it  :  if  any 
such  like  hereinafter  be  discovered  I  pray  your  Lordship 

1  Ellis's  Letters. 


334  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

I  may  be  forewarned.  I  will  not  have  any  unknown  or 
suspected  person  to  come  to  my  house.  Upon  the  least 
suspicion  that  may  happen  here,  anyway,  1  shall  give 
advertisement  to  your  Lordship.  I  have  little  resort  to 
me  :  my  house  is  furnished  with  sufficient  company  : 
Arbell  walks  not  late,  at  such  time  as  she  shall  take  the 
air,  it  shall  be  near  the  house,  and  well  attended  on  : 
she  goeth  not  to  anybody's  house  at  all  :  I  see  her 
almost  every  hour  in  the  day  :  she  lieth  in  my  bed- 
chamber. If  I  can  be  more  precise  than  1  have  been  I 
will  be.  I  am  bound  in  nature  to  be  careful  for  Arbell  : 
I  find  her  loving  and  dutiful  to  me,  yet  her  own  good 
and  safety  is  not  dearer  to  me,  nor  more  by  me 
regarded  than  to  accomplish  her  Majesty's  pleasure,  and 
that  which  I  think  may  be  for  her  service.  I  would 
rather  wish  many  deaths  than  to  see  this  or  any  such 
like  wicked  attempt  to  prevail. 

"About  a  year  since,  there  was  one  Harrison,  a  semin- 
ary, that  lay  at  his  brother's  house  about  a  mile  from 
Hardwick,  whom  I  thought  then  to  have  caused  to 
be  apprehended,  and  to  have  sent  him  up  ;  but  found 
he  had  licence  for  a  time.  Notwithstanding,  the 
seminary,  soon  after,  went  from  his  brother's,  finding 
how  much  I  was  discontented  with  his  lying  so  near 
me.  Since  my  coming  now  into  the  country,  I  had 
some  intelligence  that  the  same  seminary  was  come 
again  to  his  brother's  house  :  my  son  William  Caven- 
dish went  thither  of  a  sudden  to  make  search  for 
him,  but  could  not  find  him.  I  write  this  much  to 
your  Lordship  that  if  any  such  traitorous  and  naughty 
persons  (through  her  Majesty's  clemency)  be  suffered 
to  go  abroad,  that  they  may  not  harbour  near  my 
houses  Wingfield,  Hardwick,  or  Chatsworth  in  Derby- 


HEIR   AND   DOWAGER  335 

shire  :  they  are  the  most  likely  instruments  to  put  a 
bad  matter  in  execution. 

"One  Morley,  who  hath  attended  on  Arbell,  and 
read  to  her  for  the  space  of  three  years  and  a  half, 
showed  to  be  much  discontented  since  my  return  into 
the  country,  in  saying  he  had  lived  in  hope  to  have 
some  annuity  granted  him  by  Arbell  out  of  her  lands 
during  his  life,  or  some  lease  of  grounds  to  the  value 
of  forty  pounds  a  year,  alleging  that  he  was  so  much 
damaged  by  leaving  the  University,  and  now  saw  that 
if  she  were  willing,  yet  not  of  ability,  to  make  him  any 
such  assurance.  I  understanding  by  divers  that  Morley 
was  so  much  discontented,  and  withal  of  late  having 
some  cause  to  be  doubtful  of  his  forwardness  in  religion 
(though  I  cannot  charge  him  with  papistry),  took  occa- 
sion to  part  with  him.  After  he  was  gone  from  my 
house,  and  all  his  stuff  carried  from  hence,  the  next 
day  he  returned  again,  very  importunate  to  serve  with- 
out standing  upon  any  recompense,  which  made  me  more 
suspicious,  and  the  more  willing  to  part  with  him.  I 
have  no  other  in  my  house  who  will  supply  Morley's 
place  very  well  for  the  time.  I  will  have  those  that 
shall  be  sufficient  in  learning,  honest,  and  well  disposed 
so  near  as  I  can. 

"  1  am  forced  to  use  the  hand  of  my  son  William 
Cavendish,  not  being  able  to  write  so  much  myself  for 
fear  of  bringing  great  pain  to  my  head.  He  only  is 
privy  to  your  Lordship's  letter,  and  neither  Arbell  nor 
any  other  living,  nor  shall  be. 

"  I  beseech  your  Lordship  I  may  be  directed  from 
you  as  occasion  shall  fall  out.  To  the  uttermost  of 
my  understanding,  I  have  and  will  be  careful.  I  be- 
seech the  Almighty  to  send  your  Lordship  a  long  and 


336  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

happy  life,  and  so  I  will  commit  your  Lordship  to  His 
protection.  From  my  house  at  Hardwick  the  2ist  of 
September,  1592. 

"  Your  Lordship's  as  I  am  bound, 

"  E.  Shrewsbury." 


CHAPTER   XXII 

ARABELLA    DANCES    INTO    COURT 

^  I  ""HE  death  of  Mary  Queen  of  Scots  was  the  signal 
for  the  Countess  to  insure  that  Arabella  should  be 
as  near  the  Court  as  possible.  She  was  kept  hard  at  her 
lessons,  but,  though  the  various  members  of  the  family 
were  at  variance  over  property,  the  Dowager  was  far  too 
wise  to  spoil  the  girl's  prospects  by  forbidding  her  inter- 
course with  her  "  Court-like  "  aunt,  Gilbert's  Mary.  As 
regards  the  young  Shrewsbury  pair  she  was,  of  course, 
at  once  a  possible  stumbling-block  and  a  possible  step- 
ping-stone to  their  advantage.  Her  parentage  gave  her 
social  precedence,  and  though  her  present  worldly  status 
was  not  very  great,  she  might  at  any  time,  by  an  im- 
portant marriage,  assume  a  position  far  above  them  and 
be  regarded  as  a  source  of  Court  favours.  In  fact,  both 
sides  of  the  complicated  family  co-operated  to  help  her 
on  in  the  world. 

Already  at  the  age  of  thirteen  she  was  introduced  to 
the  Court.  Her  young  uncle,  Sir  Charles  Cavendish, 
writes  of  it  with  great  appreciation  :  "  My  Lady  Arbell, 
has  been  once  to  Court.  Her  Majesty  spoke  twice  to 
her  .  .  .  she  dined  in  the  presence,  but  my  Lord 
Treasurer  had  her  to  supper  ;  and  at  dinner,  I  dining 
with  her,  and  sitting  over  against  him,  he  asked  me 
whether  I  came  with  my  niece.  I  said  I  came  with  her  : 
then  he  spake  openly,  and  directed  his  speech  to  Sir 
z  337 


23^  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

Walter  Rawley,  greatly  in  her  recommendation,  as  that 
she  had  the  French,  the  Italian,  played  of  instruments, 
dances,  and  writ  very  fair  ;  wished  she  were  fifteen  years 
old,  and  with  that  rounded  Mr.  Rawley  in  the  ear,  who 
answered  it  would  be  a  happy  thing.  .  .  .  My  Lady 
Arbelle  and  the  rest  are  very  well,  and  it  is  wonderful 
how  she  profiteth  in  her  book,  and  believe  she  will  dance 
with  exceeding  good  grace,  and  can  behave  herself  with 
great  proportion  to  everyone  in  their  degree."^ 

Old  Lady  Shrewsbury  worked  hard  for  Arabella  and 
played  for  Elizabeth's  favour  now  more  than  ever,  with 
a  keen  hope  of  seeing  the  girl  named  as  her  Majesty's 
successor.  James  of  Scotland  was,  of  course,  playing  a 
similar  game,  and  while  he  pressed  the  Queen  in  regard 
to  the  succession,  up  to  the  point  of  making  her  angry, 
he  kept  on  good  terms  with  Arabella,  to  whom  he 
wrote  now  and  then  an  affectionate,  cousinly  letter. 
His  tactics  were  practical,  for  he  now  proposed  as  her 
bridegroom  Esmc  Stuart,  a  piece  of  diplomacy  on 
which,  under  the  magnificent  guise  of  her  restoration 
to  her  own  title  of  Lennox,  he  must  have  prided  him- 
self enormously.  This  offer  was  declined  ;  a  short- 
sighted refusal,  as  it  proved  both  in  the  future  and  in 
the  present,  for  matters  in  regard  to  Elizabeth's  favour 
did  not  prosper.  Old  age  and  bitterness  made  her 
resentful  and  increased  her  hydra-headed  suspicion.  It 
was  always  so  easy  for  any  ill-minded  person  to  raise 
a  papistical  scare  and  accuse  Arabella — whose  aunt,  the 
young  Countess,  was  notoriously  in  favour  of  the  pro- 
scribed priesthood — as  being  the  heart  and  soul  of  every 
such  plot. 

Yet  the  Dowager  Countess  still  laboured  on.  We 
*  Coetcllo. 


ARABELLA   DANCES   INTO   COURT     339 

find  Arabella  sending  the  Queen  a  *'  rare  New  Year 
gift,"  to  which  her  Majesty's  return  was  acknowledged 
by  a  confidential  correspondent  as  a  very  poor  one. 
The  Queen,  however,  in  discussion  with  the  writer 
announced  her  intention  to  be  kind  and  promised  to  be 
"  very  careful  of  Arabella."  Again  this  was  a  case  of 
"  Words,  words  !  " 

It  was  in  1592  that  Arabella  refused  Esme  Stuart. 
In  1596  no  less  a  person  than  the  French  King  discussed 
her  as  a  possible  bride  for  the  Dauphin.  Meanwhile 
she,  who  was  in  no  sense  an  intrigante^  and  seems  to 
have  inherited  all  the  simplicity  of  her  mother,  with 
the  energy  and  the  joiede  vivre  of  her  grandmother,  was 
in  no  way  concerned  in  the  wretched  schemes  attributed 
to  her  by  wild  gossip.  She  was  more  desirous  of  love 
and  companionship  than  of  place  and  glory,  and  of 
a  decent  competence  than  the  splendour  of  courts.  In 
her  twenty-eighth  year  (1603)  she  attempted  to  make 
her  own  choice.  It  was  a  curious  one  as  regards  dis- 
crepancy in  age.  She  sought  to  betroth  herself  to  a  boy 
fifteen  years  old,  young  William  Seymour.  This  was 
no  less  than  the  grandson  of  that  same  unhappy  Earl 
Hertford  who  had  wedded  poor  Lady  Catherine  Grey. 
The  whole  affair  would  be  puzzling  if  it  were  not  for 
the  fact  that  Arabella's  thoughts  were  turned  in  this 
direction  by  the  fact  that  he,  like  herself,  was  partly  of 
royal  blood.  At  the  same  time,  he  was  not  hampered 
by  the  possession  of  a  crown,  and  with  all  the  attendant 
difficulties  and  dangers  of  a  royal  marriage.  The  matter 
did  not  go  very  far,  for  the  bare  suggestion  of  such 
a  thing  aroused  the  most  absurd  excitement  in  the 
Queen's  mind.     Arabella  was  at  once  arrested. 

Elizabeth,  it  will  be  remembered,  was  already  dying 


340  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

by  inches  in  the  cold  spring  of  1603.  ^^^  accusation 
that  Arabella's  action  killed  her  has  no  ground  what- 
soever ;  but  it  was  an  unfortunate  moment  to  incur 
royal  displeasure.  Naturally  when  the  question  of 
succession  came  up  finally  and  Elizabeth  was  asked 
if  she  could  contemplate  young  William  Seymour's 
father,  Lord  Beauchamp,  as  her  heir,  the  old  irritation 
against  the  Hertford  marriage  flared  up  in  that  memor- 
able dying  retort  of  hers  :  "  I  will  have  no  rascal's  son 
in  my  place." 

Bitterly  indeed  must  Bess  Shrewsbury  have  raved  at 
Hardwick  against  the  unjust  fate  which  caused  the 
fortunes  of  her  "juwell"  to  decline  so  miserably  at  this 
critical  moment.  The  succession  of  James  was  thereby 
assured,  and  when  it  became  fact  was  a  bitter  pill  for 
Talbot  and  Cavendish  to  swallow.  By  this  time  the 
good  Burghley  was  dead,  and  his  son,  Sir  Robert  Cecil, 
undertook  to  mediate  for  Arabella  with  James.  She 
was  for  the  moment  removed  to  polite  imprisonment  in 
the  country,  whence  she  wrote  breezy  and  innocent  letters 
to  her  family,  notably  to  her  step-uncle,  Edward  Talbot, 
in  which  she  disclaims  her  guilt  in  a  somewhat  veiled 
and  fantastic  manner.  "  Noble  gentleman,"  runs  one 
sentence,  "  I  am  as  unjustly  accused  of  contriving  a 
comedy  as  you  in  my  conscience  a  tragedy." 

While  she  awaited  the  King's  pleasure  James  was 
making  his  first  royal  progress,  and  Gilbert  Shrewsbury 
had  the  honour  of  entertaining  him  magnificently  at 
Worksop  Manor,  which  must  have  made  the  Dowager 
fearfully  jealous.  Cecil  set  to  work  as  soon  as  possible 
on  his  protegee's  behalf,  and,  seeing  that  she  presented 
no  problem  of  political  danger,  eventually  procured  her 
liberty — that  is,  with  certain  reservations.     He  under- 


ARABELLA   DANCES   INTO   COURT     341 

took  that  she  should  reside  with  the  Marchioness  of 
Northampton  at  Sheen. 

All  this  while  the  Countess  Dowager  kept  well  in  the 
background.  Arabella,  she  knew,  was  of  an  age  to 
manage  her  own  affairs,  and  could  deal  shrewdly  and 
promptly  with  Cecil  in  regard  to  her  maintenance  by  the 
King  in  her  right  as  one  of  royal  blood.  She  managed 
this  difficult  situation  so  well  that  she  was  presently 
taken  into  the  bosom  of  the  Court.  This  happy  event 
was  gracefully  achieved  thus.  The  arrival  in  England 
of  the  Queen-Consort  some  months  after  her  husband 
was  the  cause  for  further  display  on  the  part  of  both 
Cavendishes  and  Talbots.  Bess  Shrewsbury  planned 
a  great  reception  for  Anne  of  Denmark  at  Chatsworth, 
and  tendered  the  invitation  through  Arabella.  It  was 
declined,  and  it  has  been  suggested  that  the  royal 
motive  for  this  was  the  unhappy  association  of  the 
great  hostess  with  the  mother  of  James.  Though  the 
mere  fact  of  the  Countess's  former  position  of  assistant- 
gaoler  may  not  have  sufficed,  memories  of  strife  and 
"  scandilation  "  would  certainly  stick  in  the  memory 
of  those  who  surrounded  James,  and  their  advice  could 
scarcely  favour  the  invitation.  Arabella  was,  however, 
authorised  to  go  to  Welbeck  to  assist  her  uncle.  Sir 
Charles  Cavendish,  to  receive  Anne.  At  the  same 
time  she  was  to  be  introduced  to  the  young  Princess, 
to  whom  she  was  appointed  State  governess.  Earl 
Gilbert's  house  was  once  more  honoured,  and  his  wife 
and  he  incited  to  impoverish  themselves  anew  for  their 
second  magnificent  royal  entertainment  in  the  year  of 
the  accession. 

At  Welbeck  Sir  Charles  Cavendish  vied  with  his 
hair-brother  and  contrived  an  elaborate  sylvan  pageant 


342  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

in  which  Arabella  figured  as  Diana.  Poor  Diana  !  At 
twenty-seven  she  could  personate  with  zest  the  chaste, 
invincible,  tireless  goddess.  Could  she  have  foreseen 
that  role  assigned  to  her  for  life  by  the  criminal  selfish- 
ness of  James,  she  would  have  forsworn  all  courts  in 
that  hour,  and  preferred  the  groves  in  which  she  and 
William  Seymour  would  willingly  have  walked  in  years 
to  come,  hand  in  hand,  poor  and  happy. 

So — as  in  Elizabeth's  day — the  girl,  spirited,  cultured, 
good,  and  warm-hearted,  danced  herself  into  the  heart 
of  Queen  Anne,  and  above  all  into  that  of  the  young 
Elizabeth,  whom  she  charmed  instantly.  Away  went 
Arabella  now  to  Court  in  the  new  Queen's  train,  and 
thenceforward  appeared  constantly  in  the  company  of 
her  clever,  tart,  intriguing  Shrewsbury  aunt.  Her 
uncle  Gilbert  kept  a  steady  eye  on  her.  For  she  was 
lively,  brilliant ;  not  beautiful,  but  of  great  magnetic 
attraction.  Withal,  she  was  quick  of  tongue,  and  he 
feared  lest  she  should  slip  into  indiscretion  of  speech 
and  give  advantage  to  back-biters  at  Court. 

She  escaped  at  least  one  danger  this  autumn — infec- 
tion from  the  plague.  In  spite  of  all  her  duties  and 
dangers  she  was  in  close  touch  with  her  relatives. 
Naturally  there  were  difficult  moments.  Now  she  dis- 
pleases her  tremendous  grandmother,  and  now  her 
pugnacious  aunt.  Again  and  again  she  tries  to  act  as 
go-between,  and  at  odd  times  secures  favours  for  one 
or  the  other — a  barony  for  William  Cavendish,  a 
bride  for  his  son.  At  intervals  she  visited  her  grand- 
mother, but  generally  with  a  view  to  making  peace 
between  Gilbert  and  the  hostess  of  Hardwick.  To 
him  she  wrote  in  a  very  touching  manner  after  a  visit 
to  the  old  lady  :  "  I  found  so  good  hope  of  my  grand- 


ARABELLA   DANCES   INTO   COURT     343 

mother's  good  inclination  to  a  good  and  reasonable 
reconciliation  betwixt  herself  and  her  divided  family 
that  I  could  not  forbear  to  impart  to  your  Lordship 
with  all  speed.  Therefore  I  beseech  you,  put  on  such 
a  Christian  and  honourable  mind  as  becometh  you  to 
bear  to  a  lady  so  near  to  you  and  yours  as  my  grand- 
mother is.  And  think  you  cannot  devise  to  do  me 
greater  honour  and  contentment  than  to  let  me  be  the 
only  mediator,  moderator,  and  peacemaker  betwixt  you 
and  her.  You  know  I  have  cause  only  to  be  partial  on 
your  side,  so  many  kindnesses  and  favours  I  have  re- 
ceived from  you,  and  so  many  unkindnesses  and  dis- 
graces have  I  received  from  the  other  party.  Yet  will 
I  not  be  restrained  from  chiding  you  (as  great  a  lord  as 
you  are)  if  I  find  you  either  not  willing  to  be  asken  to 
this  good  notion  or  to  proceed  in  it  as  I  shall  think 
reasonably.  ...  If  I  be  not  sufficient  for  this  treaty 
never  think  me  such  as  can  add  strength  and  honour  to 
your  family." 

Such  matters  were  hard  for  both  sides,  and  one's 
sympathy  inclines  to  the  ageing,  fighting,  building 
Dowager.  "  Your  unkindness  sticks  sore  in  her  teeth," 
wrote  one  of  Gilbert's  informants.  To  Gilbert,  how- 
ever, she  managed  to  maintain  a  proud  front,  and  busied 
herself  about  a  fresh  building  enterprise. 

This  project  was  partly  the  outcome  of  her  extra- 
ordinary pugnacity.  Her  neighbour.  Sir  Francis  Leake, 
had  designed  and  was  building  in  the  county  a  fine 
house,  Sutton,  which  rivalled  Hardwick  in  magnificence. 
Invidious  comparisons  were  evidently  drawn,  and  she 
declared  scornfully  that  she  would  build  as  good  a  house 
"  for  owls  "  as  he  for  men.  The  mansion  she  built  was 
therefore  called  Owlcotes,  and  was  not  far  from  Hardwick. 


344  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

The  first  year  of  Arabella's  royal  post  was  certainly 
one  fraught  with  peril,  for  it  closed  with  the  trial  of  Sir 
Walter  Raleigh,  accused,  as  all  will  remember,  of  plot- 
ting to  dethrone  James  in  favour  of  Arabella.  Even 
Henry  Cavendish  was  suspected  of  complicity.  It  is 
not  necessary  here  to  go  into  the  details  which  proved 
Arabella's  innocence.  It  was  quickly  proved  and  her 
Court  life  went  on  as  before,  gaily,  with  masques, 
drawing-rooms,  ballets,  and  even  the  nursery  games  in 
which  it  pleased  the  ladies  of  the  Danish  Anne  to 
indulge. 

At  the  close  of  her  second  year  at  Court  (1605) 
another  proposal,  this  time  from  the  King  of  Poland, 
reached  Arabella  and  was  refused.  She  does  not  yet 
seem  to  have  tired  of  the  frivolous  and  exhausting 
life,  though  her  letters — whimsical,  affectionate,  quaintly 
sententious,  often  highly  graphic — are  shortened  at  times, 
and,  though  loyal,  she  complains  roundly  of  "  this  ever- 
lasting hunting."  For  in  their  passion  for  sport  King 
and  Queen  dragged  their  courtiers  hither  and  thither, 
and  the  latter  were  often  miserably  housed  and  served 
during  these  expeditions. 

The  Dowager  at  Hardwick  was  well  informed  of 
Court  affairs,  for  she  paid  a  handsome  retaining  fee  to 
no  less  a  person  than  the  Dean  of  the  Chapel  Royal  in 
order  that  he  should  keep  her  well  posted.  In  this 
year  (1605)  she  was  taken  seriously  ill  and  summoned 
Arabella.  The  girl  was  evidently  afraid  of  her,  for  she 
took  precautions  to  insure  welcome  in  the  shape  of  a 
letter  from  the  King  himself,  desiring  the  Countess  to 
receive  her  granddaughter  with  kindness  and  bounty. 
This  Incensed  the  old  lady  a  good  deal.  Though  she 
was  now  more  or  less  like  a  sleeping  dragon  guarding 


Front  a  photo  by  Richard  Kccne,  Ltd.,  Derby,  after  the  painting  at  Hardivick  Hall 
By  permission  of  his  Grace  the  Duke  of  Devonshire 

JAMES   THE    FIFTH   OF    SCOTLAND 


Page  344 


ARABELLA   DANCES   INTO   COURT     345 

her  hoard,  as  in  the  Norse  legend,  she  could  still  rouse 
herself  to  snarl  in  a  letter.  She  did  not  write  to  the 
King  direct,  but  devised  an  epistle  to  the  Dean,  in  which 
she  emphatically  declared  her  astonishment  at  the  royal 
message.  This  he  was  ordered  to  show  to  the  King. 
"  It  was  very  strange  to  her,"  she  said,  "that  my  Lady 
Arabella  should  come  to  her  with  a  recommendation  as 
either  doubting  of  her  entertainment  or  desiring  to 
come  to  her  from  whom  she  had  desired  so  earnestly 
to  come  away.  That  for  her  part  she  thought  she  had 
sufficiently  expressed  her  good  meaning  and  kindness  to 
her  that  had  purchased  her  seven  hundred  pounds  by 
year  land  of  inheritance,  and  given  her  as  much  money 
as  would  buy  a  hundred  pound  by  year  more.  And 
though  for  her  part  she  had  done  very  well  for  her 
according  to  her  poor  ability,  yet  she  should  always  be 
welcome  to  her,  though  she  had  divers  grandchildren 
that  stood  more  in  need  than  she,  and  much  the  more 
welcome  in  respect  of  the  King's  recommendation  ;  she 
had  bestowed  on  Arabella  a  cup  of  gold  worth  a  hundred 
pound,  and  three  hundred  pound  in  money  which  de- 
served thankfulness  very  well,  considering  her  poor 
ability." 

James  could  afford  to  laugh  at  such  a  communication, 
which  fortunately  did  not  prejudice  Arabella  in  his  eyes. 
Her  return  to  Court  was  not  long  delayed,  for  her 
grandmother  recovered,  and  the  Court  lady  was  once 
more  free  to  stand  godmother  to  royal  babies,  play, 
hunt,  and  dance,  and  suffer  perpetual  financial  embar- 
rassment owing  to  the  ridiculous  expenditure  to  which 
courtiers  of  both  sexes  were  put  in  making  royal  gifts 
and  providing  the  costly,  fantastic  costumes  which  the 
successive  masques  entailed. 


346  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

It  was  during  the  production  of  the  famous  "  Masque 
of  Beauty,"  written  for  Twelfth  Night,  and  produced  in 
honour  of  the  visit  of  the  King  of  Denmark,  that  Bess 
Shrewsbury  sank  into  her  last  ilhiess.  For  this  masque 
Arabella,  it  is  recorded,  appeared  in  jewels  and  robes 
worth  more  than  ;^  100,000.  From  such  scenes  of 
colour  and  luxuriance  she  was  called  to  that  stately, 
lonely  deathbed  at  Hard  wick. 

Of  the  Countess's  danger  her  relatives  were  fully 
aware,  and  the  various  family  partisans  took  good  care 
to  be  on  the  look-out  for  any  hostile  movements  with 
regard  to  property  from  their  opponents.  The  follow- 
ing extract  from  one  of  Gilbert's  letters  to  Henry 
Cavendish  gives  an  ugly  little  picture  of  the  situation. 
The  date  is  January  4th,  1607  • — 

"  When  I  was  at  Hardwick  she  did  eat  very  little, 
and  not  able  to  walk  the  length  of  the  chamber  betwixt 
two,  but  grew  so  ill  at  it  as  you  might  plainly  discern  it. 
On  New  Year's  Eve,  when  my  wife  sent  her  New  Year's 
gift,  the  messenger  told  us  she  looked  pretty  well  and 
spoke  heartily  ;  but  my  Lady  wrote  that  she  was  worse 
than  when  we  last  saw  her,  and  Mrs.  Digby  sent  a  secret 
message  that  her  Ladyship  was  so  ill  that  she  could  not 
be  from  her  day  nor  night.  1  heard  that  direction  is 
given  to  some  at  Wortley  to  be  in  readiness  to  drive 
away  all  the  sheep  and  cattle  at  Ewden  instantly  upon 
her  Ladyship's  death. 

"These  being  the  reasons  that  move  me  thus  to 
advise  you,  consider  how  like  it  is  that  when  she  is 
thought  to  be  in  danger  your  good  brother  will  think  it 
time  to  work  with  you  to  that  effect,  and — God  forgive 
me   if  I  judge  amiss — 1  verily  think  that,  till  of  late,  he 


Photo  by  Richard  Keene,  Ltd.,  Derby 

TOMB    OF  ELIZABETH   COUNTESS  OF  SHREWSBURY 


Page  346 


ARABELLA   DANCES   INTO   COURT     347 

hath  been  in  some  hope  to  have  seen  your  end  before 
hers,  by  reason  of  your  sickliness  and  discontentment  of 
mind.  To  conclude,  I  wish  and  advise  you  to  take  no 
hold  of  any  offer  that  shall  be  made  unto  you,  etc. 

"  You  have  not  been  forgot  to  my  Lady,  neither  for 
yourself  nor  for  Chatsworth,  but  we  have  forborne  to 
write  you  thereof,  knowing  that  one  of  your  brother's 
principallest  means  to  keep  us  all  so  divided  one  from 
another,  etc." 

"  Your  good  brother "  is  certainly  William  Caven- 
dish, of  whom  the  whole  family  were  wildly  jealous,  and 
who  planned  to  seize  certain  cattle  belonging  to  the 
Countess,  in  advance  of  his  brothers,  so  soon  as  she  had 
drawn  her  last  breath. 

Very  few  details  are  extant  of  the  death  of  the  great 
Bess.  Grateful  pensioners  she  had,  and  certainly  some 
devoted  servants.  Her  intimate  friends  were  few,  and 
nearly  all  her  contemporaries  predeceased  her.  We 
come  across  nothing  more  interesting  as  a  bare  record  of 
her  death  than  the  following  entry  in  Simpson's  National 
Records  of  Derby  for  1607  : — 

"  The  old  Countess  of  Shrewsbury  died  about  Candle- 
mas this  year,  whose  funeral  was  about  Holy  Thursday. 
A  great  frost  this  year.  The  witches  of  Bakewell 
hanged." 

So  into  limbo  this  contemptuous  entry  dismisses  a 
great  lady.  Pouf  1  Out  with  the  candles  !  The  frost 
is  over  ;  some  women  have  been  hung  at  Bakewell  ;  an 
old  lady  is  dead. 

To  the  end  she  never  ceased  her  doughty  and  defiant 
game  with  stone,  wood,  and  mortar.    While  her  "  home 


348  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

for  owls  "  was  in  erection  there  came  that  same  "  great 
frost "  named  in  the  old  Derby  chronicle.  Naturally  the 
mortar  at  "  Owlcotes "  froze.  The  masons  could  do 
nothing.  Instantly  she  issued  orders  that  it  was  to  be 
thawed  with  boiling  water.  This  was  unavailing,  and 
the  order  came  to  use  ale  also,  in  the  hope  that  the 
thicker  fluid  might  prevent  crystallisation.  About  this 
there  is  the  true  Elizabethan  touch.  But  even  ale, 
poured  out  like  water,  failed,  and  my  Lady  went  out — 
with  the  holy  candles. 

How  Arabella — faithful,  loyal,  vital,  intense — danced, 
toiled,  and  loved — to  her  doom  ;  how  energetic,  am- 
bitious Mary  Shrewsbury,  like  her  mother  before  her, 
enjoyed  imprisonment  in  the  Tower  because  of  her 
match-making  intrigues  ;  how  William  Cavendish  be- 
came not  only  an  earl,  but  one  of  the  first  colonists  in 
Virginia  and  Bermuda  ;  how  Henry  Cavendish  died  of 
his  "sickliness  and  discontentment  of  mind";  how 
Henry  Talbot,  also,  passed  away  before  he  could  share 
the  splendour  or  the  thriftlessness  of  his  race  ;  how 
Charles  Cavendish  made  Bolsover  Castle  a  fit  guest- 
house for  the  King,  for  whom  his  son  prepared  a  famous 
masque  and  banquet ;  how  Gilbert  Shrewsbury,  his 
presence-chamber  crowded  with  spongers  and  creditors, 
pawned  his  plate  and  jewels,  and  how  his  younger 
brother  and  chief  enemy,  Edward  Talbot,  became  eighth 
Earl  in  his  stead,  belong  to  an  epoch  which  escapes  the 
limit  of  this  survey. 


CHAPTER   XXIII 

MY     lady's     mansions 

TT  is  universally  conceded  by  our  nation  that  the 
French  have  a  sense  of  the  theatre  which  we  shall 
never  possess.  The  only  set-ofF  we  can  produce  is  a 
pre-eminent  "  sense  of  the  house."  In  France  this  has 
to  a  great  extent  died  out.  In  French  and  in  most 
continental  cities  the  greater  number  of  people  live  like 
pigeons  in  large  cotes.  It  is  the  tendency  of  all  towns, 
though  in  England  the  notion  takes  hold  slowly.  In 
the  country  the  sense  of  the  house  is  as  strong  as  ever, 
with  this  change — that  it  is  the  day  of  the  little  house. 
Of  the  great  house  in  its  perfect  sense  as  a  home  there 
are  but  few  happy  instances.  It  is  the  day  of  little 
things — little  books,  little  songs,  little  pictures,  little 
buildings,  little  frequent  journeys,  little  incomes,  and 
little  sports.  Above  all,  the  little  incomes  1  Little 
incomes  laugh  defiance  at  great  houses.  For  great 
houses,  as  aforesaid,  are  great  thieves.  Bess  and  her 
Lord  knew  it,  in  the  end,  to  their  sorrow.  Slowly 
English  men  and  women  have  come  to  realise  this,  and 
not  to  aspire  enviously  to  great  houses.  That  notion 
was  long  a-dying,  that  obsession  of  the  great  house. 
Its  long  decline  meant  assuredly  much  that  was  tragic, 
wounding,  self-torturing.  Oh  !  those  mistaken,  ostenta- 
tious shams  and  pomposities  of  the  early  Victorian  days 

349 


350  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

when  many  a  kindly,  highly  cultured,  hyper-sensitive 
group  of  persons  dwelt  the  lives  of  immured  cabbages  1 
And  all  this  because  of  false  pride,  because  of  a  penury 
they  deliberately  huddled  round  them,  like  a  coward, 
who  flings  his  cloak  over  his  head  so  that  he  may  not 
see  even  the  opportunity  for  the  courage  which  must 
go  to  the  changed  order  of  things. 

And  so  the  little  incomes  of  to-day — the  day  of  the 
triumph  of  the  exploitation  of  limited  resources — laugh 
at  the  great  houses  because  the  first  have  been  forced  to 
learn  that  trick  of  defiance  side  by  side  with  the  bitter 
lesson  of  monetary  limitations  which  they  share  with 
the  last.  Yet  behind  their  defiance  is  a  great  admiration 
of  the  big  mansions.  And  behind  the  admiration,  if 
they  but  guessed  it,  a  great  sense  of  indebtedness.  For 
it  is  the  little  incomes,  and  not  the  little  houses,  which 
laugh  at  great  mansions.  Is  it  not  by  virtue  of  the  past 
life  and  compassion  of  the  great  houses  that  the  little 
ones  achieve  their  beauty  in  miniature,  and,  lastly, 
their  sweet  appropriateness  to  the  usages  of  modern 
life  .''  The  great  house  begat  these  little  ones  of  to-day 
— no  hovels,  but  decent  homes — which  spring  up  all 
over  England  and  Scotland  and  Ireland — in  the  hollows 
or  heights  of  downs,  in  richly  watered  places,  on  ridges, 
by  the  fringes  of  woods,  upon  the  sea  flank — creeping 
up  almost  impudently  to  the  very  skirts  of  the  great 
"places"  which  have  passed  into  the  traditions  of  history. 
Some  of  these  remain  to  us  as  dazzling  show  places, 
some  few  are  also  emphatically  homes.  Whether  ap- 
plied in  the  present  to  this  most  beautiful  and  intimate 
purpose  or  not,  all  the  great  mansions  of  Elizabeth 
Lady  Shrewsbury  were  most  truly  intended  for  sweet 
daily    uses.     Two    principal    houses    had    she    of    her 


MY   LADY'S   MANSIONS  351 

own — Hardwick  and  Chatsworth.  Eight  more  George 
Talbot  brought  her — Wingfield,  Sheffield,  Ruffbrd,  Wel- 
beck,  Worksop,  Tutbury,  Bolsover.  One  smaller  place 
he  cherished  for  his  old  age,  a  little  country  house  at 
Handsworth  in  the  same  county,  and  one  more,  as 
already  explained,  she  in  her  old  age  founded — Owlcotes 
or  Oldcotes — besides  beginning  the  rebuilding  of  Bol- 
sover Castle.  Great  houses  indeed  !  Four  of  them, 
in  especial,  were  widely  sung  and  praised.  How  runs 
the  curious  old  rhyme  ? 

"  Hardwicke  for  hugeness,  Worsope  for  height, 
Welbecke  for  use,  and  Bolser  for  sighte. 
Worsope  for  walks,  Hardwicke  for  hall, 
Welbecke  for  brewhouse,  Bolser  for  all. 
Welbecke  a  parish,  Hardwicke  a  Court, 
Worsope  a  pallas,  Bolser  a  fort. 
Bolser  to  feast  in,  Welbecke  to  ride  in, 
Hardwicke  to  thrive  in,  and  Worsope  to  bide  in. 
Hardwicke  good  house,  Welbecke  good  keepinge, 
Worsope  good  walkes,  Bolser  good  sleepinge. 
Bolser  new  built,  Welbecke  well  mended, 
Hardwicke  concealed,  and  Worsope  extended. 
Bolser  is  morn,  and  Welbecke  day  bright, 
Hardwicke  high  noone,  Worsope  good  night ; 
Hardwicke  is  now,  and  Welbecke  will  last, 
Bolser  will  be  and  Worsope  is  past. 
Welbecke  a  wife,  Bolser  a  maide, 
Hardwicke  a  matron,  Worsope  decaide. 
Worsope  is  wise,  Welbecke  is  wittie, 
Hardwicke  is  hard,  Bolser  is  prettie. 
Hardwicke  is  riche,  Welbecke  is  fine, 
Worsope  is  stately,  Bolser  divine. 
Hardwicke  a  chest,  Welbecke  a  saddle, 
Worsope  a  throne,  Bolser  a  cradle. 
Hardwicke  resembles  Hampton  Court  much, 


352  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

And  Worsope,  Welbecke,  Bolser  none  such.* 

Wonsope  a  duke,  Hardwicke  an  earl, 

Welbecke  a  viscount,  Bolser  a  pearl. 

The  rest  are  jewels  of  the  sheere 

Bolser  pendant  of  the  eare. 

Yet  an  old  abbey  hard  by  the  way — 

Rufford — gives  more  alms  than  all  they." 

It  is  curious  that  Chatsworth,  so  famous  in  history, 
has  no  part  in  the  rhyme.  Save  for  an  old  engraving 
of  it  in  the  new,  the  present  Chatsworth,  no  trace  of  the 
fabric  of  the  second  mansion,  the  house  planned  by 
William  Cavendish  the  first,  exists  ;  and  in  the  grounds 
no  relic  is  to  be  found  belonging  to  the  date  of  Queen 
Mary's  imprisonment  except  a  scrap  of  ivied  ruin  known 
as  her  "  bower." 

What  is  the  fate  of  the  rest  of  the  long  list  ?  Wing- 
field  is  an  exquisite  ruined  fragment.  The  relic  of 
that  which  was  once  Sheffield  Castle  is  only  to  be  found 
thickly  embedded  among  the  workshops  and  factories  of  a 
great  smoke-belching  town ;  and  the  whole  property  has 
passed  to  the  dukedom  of  Norfolk. 

Oldcotes,  as  we  know,  Bess  Hardwick  never  finished, 
nor  Bolsover,  for  that  last  duty  fell  upon  her  son.  Sir 
Charles  Cavendish,  who  "  cleared  away  the  loose  cement 
and  tottering  stones  and  began  to  lay  the  foundation  of 
the  newe  house  at  Bolsover,"  only  finished  by  his  son, 
Marquis  of  Newcastle.  Strangely  enough,  it  is  not  this 
— the  beautiful  Elizabethan  mansion,  which  witnessed 
now  glorious  pageants  and  now  civil  war — that  remains 
for  habitation,  but  a  portion  of  the  original  stronghold. 
Says  one  descriptive  writer  :  "The  figure  of  Hercules, 
supporting  the  balcony  over  the  principal  doorway,  is 

*  "  None-Such  " — one  of  the  royal  palaces  at  this  time. 


MY   LADY'S    MANSIONS  353 

an  appropriate  symbol  of  the  Castle's  strength.  The 
fortress  is  habitable,  and  makes  a  very  unconventional 
and  picturesque  residence,  with  its  pillar  parlour  orna- 
mented with  old-fashioned  devices  ;  its  noble  Star 
Chamber  lined  with  sombre  portraits  of  the  twelve 
Caesars  and  ceilinged  with  blue  and  gold  to  represent 
the  firmament  at  night ;  and  its  quaint  bed-chambers, 
two  of  which  are  covered  with  pictures  indicative  of 
Heaven  and  Hades  .  .  .  pictures  ...  of  angels  re- 
clining on  clouds,  or  wandering  in  delightful  glades  ; 
and  of  angels  of  darkness,  hideous  .  .  .  and  writhing 
in  torment."  The  which,  says  this  chronicler,  so 
affected  the  conscience  of  one  inhabitant  that  he 
effaced  them — "  took  a  lime  brush  and  ruthlessly 
wiped  out  both  sinners  and  saints."  The  ruin  near 
this  building  must  have  stood  finely  "  on  the  grand 
terrace  to  the  south  "  in  its  heyday  when  the  elasticity 
of  good  Bolsover  steel  spears  and  buckles  was  a  house- 
hold word  in  England. 

Tutbury  Castle  lies  a  ruin  by  the  Dove,  unregretted, 
well  detested  by  all  who  were  ever  immured  there. 

Welbeck — how  true  to  the  rhyme  ! — lasts  and  "  will 
last " — "  day  bright,"  a  "  saddle,"  a  place  to  "  ride  in," 
a  great  "  parish,"  a  home  for  use,  for  "  good  keepinge," 
— in  a  word,  an  institution  for  posterity  to  wonder  at. 
Such  also  is  Rufford,  one  of  the  few  great  buildings  which 
have  escaped  fire.  Among  the  list  of  the  disestablished 
monasteries  it  passed  into  the  hands  of  the  Talbots,  who 
made  good  use  of  its  Elizabethan  gallery  and  its  state 
chambers.  On  the  other  hand,  the  original  manor  house 
of  Worksop — "  the  wise,"  the  "  pallas,"  the  "  throne," 
was  burnt  down  in  1761,  was  "  decaide "  very  soon. 
Bolser  the  **  maid "  as  aforesaid  is  now  grown  very 
2  A 


354  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

grey,  but  is  still  lovely,  the  more  wonderful  in  its 
isolation  because  of  the  ugly  little  new  town  below  it. 
Welbeck  "  the  wife "  flourishes,  has  grown,  is  much 
increased. 

Hardwick  the  "  matron  "  endures.  In  her  "huge- 
ness," in  her  character  of  spacious  court  and  hall,  in  her 
seclusion  and  peace,  her  well-being,  her  riches  and 
comfort,  well  warmed  with  the  sun  of  prosperity,  as  at 
"  high  noone  " — in  her  role  as  "  chest,"  as  storehouse  of 
unassailable  fortunes,  as  a  place  "to  thrive  in,"  Hard- 
wick is  the  chiefest  of  all  these  houses,  because,  saving 
the  church  of  All  Saints  at  Derby,  with  the  monument 
Bess  Shrewsbury  erected  in  it  to  herself,  and  the  alms- 
houses in  the  same  town,  it  is  the  only  thing  of  all  her 
"workes"  upon  which  her  sole  impress  remains.  Into 
this  grey  stone  house,  which  bears  her  maiden  name, 
has  passed  her  extraordinary  and  very  fine  "  sense  of  the 
home,"  and  the  doggerel  just  quoted  adds  to  that  almost 
a  portrait  of  herself.  Time  was  when  she  wore  stiff 
outstanding  dresses,  encrusted  with  network  of  jewels  or 
bordered  and  lined  with  fur,  like  others  who  visited 
Court  or  the  weddings  and  pageants  of  her  circle.  In 
the  principal  portrait  of  her,  the  one  which  hangs  in  the 
centre  of  the  Cavendish  group  in  the  glorious  Hardwick 
gallery — a  stretch  of  170  feet,  of  which  the  walls  carry 
nearly  two  hundred  portraits — she  is,  however,  pre- 
sented just  in  the  character  of  matron  and  widow.  Her 
child-bearing  days  were  over,  her  schemes  were  many. 
One  cannot  read  the  rhymes  quoted  without  feeling 
that  when  Hardwick  is  named  in  the  jingle  she  herself 
passes  in  and  out  of  the  string  of  words,  which  in  itself 
is  like  a  ladies'  chain  in  a  country  dance.  She  is  in 
black  velvet  with  a  rich  quadruple  necklace  of  pearls. 


PItoto  by  Richard  Keene,  Ltd.,  Derby 

PICTURE   GALLERY,   HARDWICK   HALL 
(Showing  the  fireplace  and  a  portrait  of  Mary  Queen  of  Scots) 


Page  354 


MY   LADY'S   MANSIONS  355 

Her  chest,  with  gold  and  documents  and  household 
"stuff,"  goes  with  her;  we  hear  the  jingle  of  her 
household  keys,  her  ringing,  authoritative  voice,  meet  the 
glance  of  those  clear,  keen  eyes,  and  follow  the  line  ot 
the  thin,  sensitive  mouth,  which  could  help  that  far- 
seeing  brain  of  hers  so  much.  That  mouth  could 
flatter,  but  it  could  also  speak  with  terrible  sharpness  ; 
it  could  repeat  a  good  joke,  a  spicy  scandal,  or  quiver 
with  grief;  it  could  say  tender  things — "  my  juwell  and 
love,  my  dearest  harte " — and  it  could  bargain  finely. 
"  Hardwick  is  hard,"  says  the  rhyme,  and  her  lips  seem 
to  tighten  to  that  phrase.  She  could  certainly  be  both 
terribly  hard  and  tender. 

There  is  another  smaller  portrait  of  her,  in  her 
Countess's  coronet  and  an  ermine  tippet,  which  is 
rather  more  gracious  in  expression  than  the  stiff,  be- 
ruffed,  matronly  picture  above  mentioned.  Close  about 
her  are  her  husbands — all  save  Barlow.  Most  comfort- 
able of  these  is  Sir  William  Cavendish,  sturdy,  bearded, 
and  well-liking,  in  his  furred  robe  and  flat  cap.  Close 
by,  and  matching  the  figure  of  Arabella  Stuart  in  sheer 
pathos,  is  that  of  the  quiet,  childless  Grace  Talbot, 
whom  Fate  so  soon  made  the  widow  of  the  much- 
travelled  Henry  Cavendish.  It  is  that  of  a  dumpy 
little  woman  in  black,  holding  in  one  hand  a  single  pale 
eglantine — the  flower  of  the  Cavendishes.  Her  reddish- 
brown  hair,  her  pale  lips,  a  spinet  of  which  the  under 
portion  of  the  open  lid  is  faintly  decorated  with  red- 
winged  cherubs,  and  a  dark  green  table-cloth,  are  the 
only  scraps  of  colour  in  the  sombre  scheme.  Her 
psalter,  with  diamond  notation,  lies  open  at  the  words 
"  Sois  moy  seigneur  ma  garde  et  mon  appuy.  Car  en 
toy  gist  toute  mon  esperance." 


356  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

In  the  same  group  one  finds  Burghley,  rosy,  astute, 
richly  clad,  a  prince  of  dignitaries,  than  whom  no  states- 
man ever  had  richer  experience  of  men  and  things,  of 
power  and  place,  of  sovereigns  and  the  royal  caprice, 
who  on  the  eve  of  death  could  still  write  to  his  first- 
born, over  the  trembling  signature  of  "  Your  anguished 
father,"  the  words  "  Serve  God  by  serving  of  the 
Queen,  for  all  other  service  is  indeed  bondage  to  the 
devil." 

Very  warm  and  full  of  life  is  the  portrait  of  William 
Cavendish  the  younger,  the  Countess's  favourite  son. 
To  him  in  his  right  as  first  Earl  and  ancestor  of  the 
Dukes  of  Devonshire  belongs,  after  his  mother,  the 
whole  of  this  glorious  gallery,  typical  of  this  magnificent 
house. 

The  end  wall  is  given  up  to  the  portraits  of  the  three 
English  Queens.  In  the  centre  is  Elizabeth,  magnifi- 
cent and  monstrous,  the  clothes  hiding  the  woman,  the 
whole  art  of  portraiture  merged  in  the  painter's  dogged 
intent  to  reproduce  every  detail  of  her  jewels,  her  lace, 
and  the  birds,  beasts,  and  reptiles  with  which  her  enor- 
mous, billowing  dress  is  embroidered.  On  her  right 
stands  Queen  Anne,  very  dull,  complacent,  and  richly 
attired  ;  on  her  left  Queen  Mary,  solemn,  handsomely 
robed,  dignified.  An  opposite  wall  bears  the  other 
often-painted  Mary,  the  Arch-Enigma,  she  whose 
personality,  to  my  thinking,  is  so  much  more  subtle 
and  dominant  than  that  of  her  magnificent  English 
sisters.  This  is  the  famous  Mary  of  Oudry's  brush, 
graceful,  simple,  subtle,  the  face  diaphanous  and  elusive. 
There  is  an  odd  likeness  between  the  motto  she  chose 
for  her  dais  and  that  which  the  baby  Arabella  bears  on 
the  jewel  pendent  from  her  necklace  :  "  Pour  parvenir 


From  a  photo  ly  Richard  Keene,  Ltd.,  Derby,  after  the  picture  by  P.  Oudry 
at  Hardwick  Hall,  by  permission  of  his  Grace  the  Duke  of  Devonshire 

MARY  QUEEN  OF  SCOTS 


Page  356 


MY   LADY'S   MANSIONS  357 

j'endure  "  is  the  legend.  And  both  women  bear  witness 
to  that  determination  in  their  faces,  in  their  tragic  fates. 
That  and  the  old  "  En  ma  fin  est  mon  commencement " 
ring  in  your  ears  as  you  turn  from  the  gallery  and  from  the 
beautiful  presence-chamber  with  its  wonderful  coloured 
plaster  frieze  to  the  little  bedroom  dedicated  to  the 
relics  of  the  Scots  Mary.  The  curtains  she  em- 
broidered, the  coverings  for  the  chairs,  the  tapestry, 
the  very  bed  in  which  she  slept  and  tossed  and  wept, 
are  all  proudly  cherished.  Mary  never  stayed  at  Hard- 
wick,  pace  Horace  Walpole,  nor  possibly  ever  saw  it. 
Nor  was  she  ever  housed  at  the  old  Hardwick,  which 
stands  now  like  a  ghostly,  ruined  parent  of  the  newer 
building,  at  right  angles  to  it.  The  old  house  served 
"  Building  Bess "  not  only  as  model  for  her  new  hall, 
but  furnished  her,  it  is  said,  with  actual  material.  It 
was,  for  those  days,  a  good  model  that  she  took,  and  its 
high  and  countless  windows  made  it  hygienically  a  great 
improvement  upon  the  gloom  of  Tutbury  and  Sheffield. 
No  trace  of  superstition  or  pettiness  has  gone  to  the 
building,  begun  soon  after  she  acquired  the  house — 
either  by  purchase  or  by  legacy  from  her  brother  James 
Hardwick — some  years  before  the  death  of  her  fourth 
husband,  and  completed  seven  years  or  so  after  it — that 
is  in  1597.  At  first,  says  tradition,  she  seems  to  have 
intended  to  make  her  home  at  the  older  house  and 
reserve  the  new  one  for  ceremonial  and  entertainment, 
"  as  if  she  had  a  mind  to  preserve  her  Cradle  and  set  it 
by  her  Bed  of  State."  The  stones  of  that  "  Cradle " 
she  eventually  took  for  the  "  Bed,"  and  into  that 
bed  she  literally  wove  all  that  was  best  of  herself. 
Of  mere  personal  feminine  vanity  she  expresses  little, 
of    personal    importance     much.      She    was    fond    of 


358  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

her  crest,  and  the  modelled  stags  of  her  own 
family  are  devised  to  flatter  her  duly  in  an  in- 
scription (in  the  great  drawing-room)  to  the  intent 
that  noble  as  is  the  stag,  in  all  its  animal  perfection,  its 
nobility  is  enhanced  by  bearing  the  arms  of  the  Countess. 
She  doted  also  on  her  initials.  They  are  worked  into 
the  stone  scrolling  which  adorns  her  four  towers,  into 
the  main  gateway,  and  into  the  low  wall  which  flanks 
the  square  garden  where  you  enter.  They  are  repeated 
in  the  flower-beds.  She  must  have  loved  signing  her 
name  also,  for  scarcely  a  scrap,  it  seems,  of  the  house- 
hold accounts  concerning  her  buildings  exists  but  bears 
evidence  of  her  minute  scrutiny.  Here  is  her  signature 
as  it  appears  often  repeated  under  such  items  as  "  thre 
ponde  hyght  pence,"  or  at  the  close  of  a  letter  thus  : — 


p 

Oil, 


The  Hardwick  wages-book  between  New  Year,  1576, 
and  the  close  of  December,  1 580,  with  the  list  of  her  men 
— stone-breakers,  gardeners,  moss-gatherers,  thatchers, 
wall-builders,  ditchers — was  made  up  by  her  once  a 
fortnight  and  signed.  Inside  the  house  too  are  her 
initials,  with  the  arms  of  her  father,  the  stags  and  the 
roses  of  the  Hardwicks,  and  into  a  famous  inlaid  table 
(brought,  it  is  said,  by  her  son  Henry  from  the  East) 


MY   LADY'S   MANSIONS  359 

is  woven   the   cryptic   poetical    motto  of  her   father's 
family  : — 

"  The  redolent  smell  of  aeglantyne 
"We  stagges  exault  to  the  deveyne." 

This  legend  is  to  be  faintly  traced  in  the  interior  of 
the  ruined  old  hall.  With  the  exception  of  the  Shrews- 
bury coronet  and  the  initials,  you  find  very  little  sug- 
gestion of  the  Talbots.  Everywhere  the  arms  of 
Hardwick  predominate  in  panel,  fireplace,  and  lock. 
They  strike  the  eye  the  instant  you  enter  the  house  by 
the  great  entrance-hall.  Large  and  magnificent,  they 
are  set  forth  on  the  right  wall  :  in  heraldic  language, 
"  a  saltire  engrailed  azure ;  on  a  chief  of  the  second 
three  cinquefoils  of  the  field,"  set  in  a  lozenge-shaped 
shield  and  bearing  the  aforesaid  coronet.  The  sup- 
porters are  two  "  stags  proper,  each  gorged  with  a 
chaplet  of  roses,  argent,  between  two  bars  azure^ 
To  these  supporters  the  lady  had  no  right  because 
her  family  had  none.  But  she  assumed  them,  turn- 
ing to  account  the  stag  of  her  family  crest.  Her 
son  William  adopted  a  variation  of  this,  and  in  the 
Devonshire  arms  of  to-day  we  again  find  the  wreathed 
stags  proper,  while  the  shield  bears  three  harts'  heads. 
In  the  Mary  Queen  of  Scots  bedroom  you  will  find 
in  plaster  work  again  the  Hardwick  arms,  but  also 
those  of  Cavendish  and  of  the  Countess's  mother, 
Elizabeth  Leake.  Needless  to  say,  the  house  is  built 
in  the  grand  manner.  The  great  entrance-hall  runs 
to  the  height  of  two  stories,  and  besides  its  panel- 
ling and  old  furniture  has  screens  of  tapestry.  Just 
off  the  stairway  on  the  left  is  the  curious  little  chapel 
shut    oft    from    the     landing    by    an     open-work    oak 


36o  BESS   OF    HARDWICK 

screen.  Close  by  is  a  state  bedroom,  and  adjoining 
it  is  a  fine  dining-room,  whence  a  minstrels'  gallery 
leads  to  the  wainscoted  and  tapestried  drawing-room. 
The  splendid  presence-chamber,  sixty-five  feet  long, 
thirty-three  wide,  and  twenty-six  high,  is  another  re- 
markable feature,  and  besides  its  pictures  and  tapestry 
has  the  famous  ancient  frieze,  already  mentioned,  in 
coloured  plaster  relief  representing  the  Court  of  Diana. 
The  choice  of  theme  was,  no  doubt,  out  of  compli- 
ment to  the  Queen,  for  her  initials  and  arms  are  in 
this  room  substituted  for  those  of  the  Countess,  who, 
in  spite  of  her  dreams,  never  had  the  delight  of  re- 
ceiving Elizabeth  here. 

In  regard  to  the  sheer  details  of  furniture  and 
tapestries  the  guide-books  have  suflficiently  noted  such 
items,  and  this  is  not  the  place  for  an  inventory.  But 
in  the  household  lists,  carefully  catalogued  and  cherished, 
are  noted  "  silver  cloath  of  tissue  and  cloath  of  gold, 
velvet  of  sundry  colours,  needlework  twelve  feet  deep, 
one  piece  of  the  picture  of  Faith  and  her  contrary 
Mahomet,  another  piece  with  Temperance  and  her 
contrary  Sardynapales."  And  there  are  others  "  wrought 
with  Flowers  and  slipps  of  Needlework,"  while  a  "  white 
Spanish  rugg,"  great  chairs  and  little  chairs,  French 
stools,  "  a  little  desk  of  mother  o'  pearl,  a  purple  sarcanet 
quilt,"  are  duly  noted,  in  addition  to  carpets  and  hang- 
ings galore  storied  with  myth  and  legend.  Good  rich 
things  over  which  to  fight  when  it  was  a  case  of  family 
quarrels  !  Many  of  these  and  the  other  famous  tapestries 
with  which  the  lovely  house  is  crammed  are  being  wisely 
guarded,  and,  where  possible,  delicately  repaired,  while 
taste  and  gracious  sympathy  with  every  object  are 
turning  the  Hall  into  a  place  which  is  a  perfect  museum 


MY   LADY'S   MANSIONS  361 

with  the  added  grace  of  a  house.  The  very  ring — 
attached  to  the  foot  of  the  Countess's  writing-table — 
through  which  she  slipped  the  leash  of  her  dog,  is  still 
preserved. 

Set  high  upon  a  fine  hill  in  the  centre  of  a  park,  en- 
circled with  rolling  country,  and  facing  east  and  west, 
the  great,  old  windows  of  Hardwick  look  out  above 
colonnades  upon  a  new  world.  At  no  great  distance 
are  mines  like  those  which  have  spoiled  Bolsover 
and  Worksop.  The  masons  still  labour  at  the  stone- 
work of  Hardwick,  for  storms  have  worn  the  elaborate 
scrolling  of  those  four  proud  towers,  and  the  flagged 
pathway  from  gate  to  house-door  is  pitted  and  hollowed 
by  frost  and  rain  and  the  feet  of  generations.  And 
still  it  stands,  a  monument  and  a  living  record  of  one 
who  knew  in  her  strange,  active  life  much  grief 
and  much  joy,  who  loved  flattery  and  self-assertion 
and  the  struggle  for  individual  development,  and  yet 
could  write  in  letters  of  stone  over  the  door  of  her 
presence-chamber  :  "  The  conclusion  of  all  thinges  is 
to  feare  God  and  keepe  His  commaundements." 

She  had  the  great  secret  of  living  almost  to  the  last 
in  the  "  high  noone  "  of  her  desires.  When  the  western 
sun  bathes  her  fa9ade  she  lives  again,  walks  again  upon 
her  terrace  and  under  her  colonnades.  And  with  her 
goes  that  great  procession,  pathetic  and  vital,  of  her 
"  workes " — her  children,  her  friends,  her  buildings, 
her  household  gods,  her  intrigues,  her  dazzling  dreams, 
her  bargains — and  all  of  them  seem  to  have  a  part  in  the 
music  of  that  duet  of  notions  ever  running  in  her 
head — "  of  bricks  and  mortar  to  yield  grandeur,  of 
human  beings  to  yield  wealth." 

She  has  been  turned  into  ridicule  by  Horace  Walpole, 


362  BESS   OF   HARDWICK 

whose  flippant  vulgarity  nevertheless  acknowledged  her 
magnificence.  She  was  called  shrew  by  a  pompous 
bishop,  but  she  had  too  much  brain  for  a  shrew.  She 
could  certainly  scold — "like  one  from  the  banke" — but 
so  could  her  royal  mistress.  In  these  two  Elizabeths 
there  is,  after  one  allows  for  the  difference  in  their  actual 
circumstances,  a  strange  likeness.  Both  were  violent 
natures  ;  both,  in  spite  of  their  extraordinary  sense  of 
dignity,  had  a  strong  dash  of  the  hoyden.  Both  had 
immense  vitality,  relished  life  intensely,  loved  to  play 
with  schemes.  Both  were  obstinate,  affectionate,  vindic- 
tive, pugnacious,  essentially  women  of  their  era,  a 
type  to  which  Elizabeth  herself  set  the  measure  and 
called  the  tune.  While  the  sum  of  all  sorrow  is 
the  same,  their  sorrows  differed  in  detail.  Elizabeth 
of  England,  called  to  the  immense  sacrifice  of  her 
womanhood  for  England,  fell  back  in  private  on 
petty  vanities,  and  had  her  reward  in  the  love  of  the 
larger  public  of  her  day  and  in  the  enlightened 
homage  of  posterity  to  her  sacrifice  and  her  statesmanship, 
Elizabeth  Shrewsbury  justly  refused  to  sacrifice  herself 
to  the  ofl^cial  burdens  put  upon  her  earl,  unjustly 
refused  to  go  shares  with  him  in  their  common  re- 
sponsibilities, and  so  iti  her  the  "combat  for  the  in- 
dividual "  ran  to  exaggeration,  with  its  harvest  of  sheer 
bitterness  and  errors.  In  body  and  soul  she  repre- 
sented that  spirit  of  individualism  set  in  an  epoch 
of  intrigue,  sensation,  change,  uncertainty,  wide  and 
violent  contrast,  in  days  of  large  treasons  and  inter- 
national piracy,  of  high  feeding  and  large  ideas,  of 
scented  gloves,  masks,  doublets,  and  ill- managed 
kitchen  heaps,  of  plot  and  counter-plot,  of  Court  splen- 
dour and  national  drama. 


MY   LADY'S   MANSIONS  363 

Tobie  Matthew,  Archbishop  of  York,  preached  a  fine 
funeral  sermon  upon  this  "  costly  Countess,"  in  which 
she  was  likened  to  the  ideal  virtuous  woman  of  Solomon, 
while  Hunter,  on  the  other  hand,  ironically  suggests 
that  Massinger  based  his  character  of  Sir  Giles  Over- 
reach upon  her.  Lodge  has  termed  her  violent, 
treacherous,  tyrannical.  Such  in  many  ways  was  the 
nature  of  England's  Elizabeth.  Yet  both  women  were 
makers  and  builders,  often  blind,  always  resourceful, 
achieving  immense  results  in  their  several  capacities. 
And  since  the  royal  symbol  of  the  one  is  the  stately 
Tudor  rose,  so  also  shall  the  lovely  "  redolent  aeglan- 
tyne"  of  the  motto  of  the  other  entwine  and  weave 
through  the  ages  the  memory  of  all  that  was  finest  in 
the  amazing  Lady  of  Hardwick.  With  that  sweet 
savour — regarding  it  as  the  final  evaporation  of  her 
complex,  rampant,  thorny,  vital  nature — let  all  harsher 
thoughts  of  her  now  be  chased  away. 


/ 


INDEX 


Adderley,  Mr.,  io8 
Alsope,  Hugh,  17 
Alva,  Duke  of,  40,  ']6^  92-3 
Anjou,  Duke  of,  40,  '](>,  218, 

221,  272,  317 
Anne  Boleyn,  28,  121 
Anne  of  Cleves,  122 
Anne  of  Denmark,  341-2,  344, 

356 
Appleyard,  92 
Argyle,  Earl  of,  39 
Arran,  Earl  of,  39,  123 
Arundel,  Earl  of,  314 

B 

Barlow,  Antony,  108 

Barlow,  Robert,  3,  355 

Beale,  Robert,  228,  231  et  sqq., 

268,  293 
Bedford,  Countess  of,  188 
Bedford,  Earl  of,  188 
Bell,  William,  92-3 
Bentall,  256  et  sqq. 
Beresford,  Henry,  282  et  sqq., 

289,  290 
Beton,  Andrew,  232 
Beton,  Archbishop,  232 
Beton,  John,  81,  232 
Beauchamp,  Lord,  340 


Bolsover,  35,  43,  204,  347,  351 

et  sqq. 
Bolton,  Castle,  Mary  Queen' of 

Scots  at,  47,  49 
Bonaparte,  Napoleon,  35 
Bothwell,  Earl  of,  68-9,   119, 

127 
Boughton,  Elizabeth.    See 

Cavendish 
Brackenbury,  Richard,  327 
Bruce,  Mrs.,  66 
Burghley,  Lady,  32,  loi,  105, 

128,  316 
Burghley,  Robert  Cecil,  Lord, 

340-1 
Burghley,  Thomas  Cecil,  Lord, 

188 
Burghley,  WiUiam  Cecil,  Lord, 
23,  32,  38,  69,  79,  loi,  104-5, 
178,  183,  211,  257,  259,  302, 
314,  316,  325  ;  and  Lady 
Catherine  Grey's  marriage, 
27,  30  ;  and  Mary  Queen  of 
Scots'  marriage,  29  ;  letters 
written  to,  30,  64-5,  80,  149, 
150,  153,  208,  236,  239,  278, 
3^9)  333  J  and  Lady  Mary 
Grey's  marriage,  31  ;  and 
imprisonment  of  Mary  Queen 
of  Scots,  47,  64-5,  70,  72,  97  ; 
visits  Mary  Queen  of  Scots, 


365 


366 


BESS   OF    HARDWICK 


80,  128,  228  ;  letters  from, 
82,  161,  165,  188  ;  and 
Lascelles,  82-3  ;  and  Nor- 
folk's death,  87 ;  and  the 
Norwich  high  treason  trial, 
92-3  ;  his  and  EHzabeth's 
distrust  of  the  Shrewsburys, 
no  et  sqq. ;  and  Lady  Len- 
nox, 125,  153  ;  and  the 
Lennox  marriage,  149,  150, 
236,  239  ;  Shrewsbury's  pre- 
sent of  plate  to,  161  ;  and 
Lady  Shrewsbury's  match- 
making, 165  et  sqq.  ;  goes  to 
Buxton,  187  ;  and  the  ac- 
cusation against  Lord  Shrews- 
bury, 249,  250 ;  and  the 
Shrewsbury  quarrel,  26,  279 
et  sqq.  ;  285,  290,  298  ;  and 
Shrewsbury's  slanderers,  264; 
and  the  "  Scandal  Letter," 
271  ;  and  Mary  Queen  of 
Scots'  trial,  308-9 ;  and 
Lady  Arabella's  income,  329 
et  sqq.  ;  and  Lady  Arabella's 
proposed  marriage,333  et  sqq.; 
his  death,  340  ;  his  portrait 
at  Hardwick,  356 

Butts,  Sir  William,  92 

Buxton,  Mary  Queen  of  Scots 
at,  no,  167,  171,  179 


Caithness,  Bishop  of,  220 

Catherine  de  Medici,  iiy 

Cavendish,  Anne,  6 

Cavendish,  Sir  Charles,  6,  45, 
242,  247-8,  254,  258,  264, 
268,  275,  282,  284,  292,  296, 
305.  337»  340-1,  348 


Cavendish,      Elizabeth.        See 

Lennox 
Cavendish,  Elizabeth,  6 
Cavendish,  Lady  Grace,  6,  36, 

44>  258,  355 

Cavendish,  Henry,  6,  36,  99, 
107,  256  et  sqq.  ;  261,  284, 
344,  346,  348,  355 

Cavendish,  Thomas,  4 

Cavendish,  Sir  William,  "  Bess 
of  Hardwick's  "  second  hus- 
band, ^et  sqq.  ;   n,  355 

Cavendish,  WiUiam.  See  Earl 
of  Devonshire 

Cecil.    See  Lord  Burghley 

Chamley,  Sir  Hugh,  181 

Chatsworth,  6  et  sqq.y  16,  72, 
79,  80,  84,91,  no,  120,  130, 
152,  180  et  sqq.y  184,  205, 
208,    214,    258,    284-5,    294, 

296-7,  334,  341,  347 
Cobham,  Lord,  32 
Cobham,  Lady,  33,  42,  44,  n8 
Cooke,  R.,  256 
Copley,  Christopher,  293 
Corker,  Chaplain,  n4  ^/  sqq. 
Crompe,  James,  10,  19,  22 
Cumberland,  Countess  of,  188 
Cumberland,  Earl  of,  188,  256, 

301 
Curie,  252,  257 

D 

Darcy,  Lord,  32 

Darnley,  Henry,  Earl  of,  29, 
39,  68-9,  n9,  124  et  sqq., 
146,  153,  159,  176,  240 

Derby,  Earl  of,  275,  314 

Devonshire,  first  Earl  of,  6,  10, 
22,    294,   298,    334-5;    and 


INDEX 


367 


Lady  Arabella  Stuart,  239 ; 
and  Mary  Queen  of  Scots, 
247,  268-9  »    ^^^  Hardwick 
Hall,  256,  258-9,  262,  287  ; 
Lady  Shrewsbury's  love  for, 
329,      356 ;       barony     con- 
ferred    on,     342 ;      family's 
jealousy    of,    347  ;     earldom 
conferred     on,     348  ;      and 
Chatsworth,   352 ;    his  por- 
trait at  Hardwick,  356 
Dickenson,  Gilbert,  298,  312 
Dudley,  Lady  Amy,  175 
Dudley,    Lord    Robert.      See 

Earl  of  Leicester 
Dyer,  Edward,  102,  104 

E 

Edward  VI,  6  et  sqq.,  24,  122, 
124 

Elizabeth,  Queen,  16-17,  20, 
35,  121-2,  189,  233,  257, 
260,  301,  307,  360;  and 
Lady  Catherine  Grey's  elope- 
ment, 26  et  sqq.,  30 ;  her 
suitors,  29,  221,  317 ;  and 
Lady  Mary  Grey's  marriage, 
31  ;  and  "  Bess  of  Hard- 
wick's  "  fourth  marriage,  36 
et  sqq.  ;  and  the  custody  of 
Mary  Queen  of  Scots,  39 
et  sqq.  ;  and  Queen  Mary's 
expenditure,  63  ;  courtiers' 
opinion  of,  64-5  ;  and 
Mary's  release,  80-1  ;  and 
Queen  Mary's  attachment  to 
the  Duke  of  Norfolk,  75 
et  sqq.,  85,  87  ;  her  sus- 
picions of  the  Shrewsburys, 
yy  et  sqq.,  97-8,  no  et  sqq.. 


212,  214  ^/  sqq.,  226  et  sqq. ; 
and  Norfolk's  trial  and  exe- 
cution, 95-6  ;  her  affection 
for  the  Earl  of  Leicester,  73, 
lOl,  105,  175  et  sqq.,  315  ; 
her  favourites,  101-2,  277  ; 
and  Lady  Lennox,  125  et  sqq., 
145  ;  and  Elizabeth  Caven- 
dish's marriage  to  the  Earl  of 
Lennox,  147  et  sqq.,  270 ; 
consigns  Lady  Lennox  and 
Lady  Shrewsbury  to  the 
Tower,  153  ;  her  allowance 
to  Shrewsbury,  162  ;  her 
depression,  162-3  5  visits  the 
Countess  of  Pembroke,  163  ; 
Burghley's  loyalty  to,  167-8  ; 
her  possible  successor,  174, 
338;  and  Leicester's  visit  to 
the  Shrewsburys,  182  et  sqq.; 
her  letter  to  the  Shrews- 
burys, 183  et  sqq.  ;  letter 
written  to,  186  ;  her  fear  of 
Queen  Mary,  186-7,  211 
et  sqq.  ;  and  the  pageant  at 
Whitehall,  225  ;  Queen 
Mary's  appeals  to,  230-I  ; 
and  Lady  Arabella  Stuart, 
239,  et  sqq.  ;  and  Mary's  at- 
tack on  the  Shrewsburys,  242 
et  sqq.  ;  and  the  Shrewsbury 
slander,  263-4,  ^^^  '->  ^^^  ^^^ 
Shrewsbury  quarrel,  267,  279 
et  sqq.,  292  et  sqq.  ;  the 
"  Scandal  Letter  "  to,  271 
et  sqq.  ;  her  pursuits,  315-16, 
362  ;  her  fondness  for  chil- 
dren, 327  ;  and  the  pro- 
vision for  Lady  Arabella,  329 
et  sqq.  ;   and  Lady  Arabella's 


368 


BESS   OF   HARDWICK 


proposed  marriage,  340  ;  her 
portrait  at  Hardvvick,  356 
Essex,  Countess  of,  171 

F 

Fawley,  Mr.,  305 

Fenelon,  La  Mothe,  147,  152, 
191 

Fletcher,  Dr.,  Dean  of  Peter- 
borough, 311-12 

Fletewood,  WilUam,  Recorder 
of  London,  262,  269 

Foljambe,  Hercules,  255 

FowUer,  Thomas,  237 

G 

Gerrard,  Judge,  92-3 
Glasgow,  Archbishop  of,  238 
Gresham,  Sir  Thomas,  188 
Grey,    Lady    Catherine.      See 

Countess  of  Hertford 
Grey,  Lady  Jane,  24,  125 
Grey,  Sir  John,  30 
Grey,  Lady  Mary.    See  Keys 
Grey,  Lord  Leonard,  14 

H 

Hall,  John,  36 

Hammer,  Rev.  Merideth,  263 

Hardvvick,  Elizabeth)  "  Bess  of 

Hardvvick ").     See  Countess 

of  Shrewsbury 
Hardwick,    EHzabeth    (mother 

of  "  Bess  of  Hardwick  "),  13, 

23 
Hardvvick  Hall,  7,  8,   17,  258, 

261,    325,    331-2,    334,    342 

et  sqq.,  351-2 
Hardvvick,  John  (father  of 

"  Bess  of  Hardwick  "),   i   et 

m->  7 


Hatton,  Sir  Chnstopher,  102, 
104,  272-3 

Haydon,  Sir  Christopher,  92 

Henry  VHI,  5,  7,  14,  24,  1 20, 
123-4,  179.  219 

Henry  of  Navarre,  165 

Herbert,  Lady  Anne.  See  Tal- 
bot 

Herbert.    See  Pembroke 

Hereford,  Viscount,  j6 

Hertford,  Countess  of,  24  et 
sqq.,  158,  175,  270,  339 

Hertford,  Dowager  Countess 
of,  27-8 

Hertford,  Earl  of,   25   et  sqq., 

I53»  339 
Howard,  Hon.  Francis,  loi 

Howard,  Lord  Thomas,  12 1-2, 

153 
Hunsdon,  Lord,  173 
Huntingdon,  Earl  of,  76  et  sqq., 

86,  155-6,  181,  212 

J 

Jackson,  Henry,  23 
James  I,  69,  76,  123,  127,  129, 
130,  159,  160,  220,  240,  311, 

332,  338,  340  ^'  ^1^- 
John  of  Austria,  Don,  207,  223 
Julio,  Mr.,  223 

K 

Katherine  of  Aragon,  121 

Katherine  Howard,  122 

Katherine  Parr,  123 

Kennet,  Bishop,  4 

Kent,  Earl  of,  310 

Keys,  John,  Serjeant  Porter,  29, 

31 
Keys,  Lady  Mary,  29,  31,  158 


INDEX 


369 


Kighley,  Anne.    See  Cavendish 
Killigrew,  Sir  William,  273 
Knifton,  Mr.,  256,  313 
Knoll7S,Sir  Francis, 46,48, 50,71 
Knollys,  Lettice.    See  Countess 

of  Leicester 
Kynnersley,  Nicholas,  312 


Lascelles,  Hersey,  82  et  sqq.,  305 

Leake,  Elizabeth,  359 

Leake,  Sir  Francis,  343 

Lee,  Sir  Henry,  300  et  sqq. 

Leicester,  Douglas,  Countess  of, 
loi,  177 

Leicester,  Lettice,  Countess  of, 
177,  259 

Leicester,  Robert  Dudley,  Earl 
of,  42,  94,  104,  125,223,227, 
264,  303,  306-7  ;  and  Lady 
Catherine  Grey's  marriage, 
27  ;  Queen  Elizabeth's  love 
for,  29,  75,  loi,  176,  183, 
315  ;  and  the  Norvs^ich  con- 
spiracy trial,  92  ;  his  gaiety, 
loo-i,  178  ;  and  the  Lennox 
marriage,  147  et  sqq. ;  letter 
written  by,  170 ;  chit-chat 
concerning,  171-2  ;  his  visit 
to  Buxton,  ly^etsqq.;  his  in- 
solence to  the  Queen,  177  ; 
Elizabeth's  letter  concerning, 
184  et  sqq.  ;  and  the  Shrews- 
bury tenantry,  215-16;  and 
Francis  Talbot's  death,  230  ; 
and  Bentall,  256  et  sqq.  ; 
death  of  his  son,  259  ;  and 
the  Shrewsbury  quarrel,  280, 
292,  294  ;  letter  written  to, 
292  ;  his  death,  315-16 


Lennox,  Charles  Stuart,  Earl 
of,6,  I2^^jyy.,  153,  157,  219, 
270 

Lennox,  Matthew,  Earl  of, 
123  etsqq.,  159,  240 

Lennox,  Elizabeth,  Countess 
of,  6,  213,  222,  273-4;  her 
courtship,  1 31  et  sqq.  ;  her 
marriage,  145-6  ;  the  Queen's 
anger  against,  147  et  sqq., 
153,  270  ;  pathetic  letter  to 
her  mother,  157-8;  birth  of 
her  daughter.  Lady  Arabella 
Stuart,  158  ;  letter  to  Queen 
Elizabeth,  160  ;  her  widow- 
hood, 189 ;  her  death,  234 
et  sqq. ;  the  Queen's  allow- 
ance to,  329 

Lennox,  Margaret,  Countess 
of,  118,  120  ^^  sqq.,  145  et  sqq.; 
letters  written  by,  150,  159, 
175,  219,  237-8,  270 

Lenton,  John,  276 

Leviston,  Lady,  64 

Lichfield,  Bishop  of,  317  et  sqq. 

Livingstone,  Lady,  66 

M 

Manners,  Roger,  188 
Manners,  Lady,  305 
Margaret  Queen  of    Scotland, 

24,  120 
Mary,  Queen,  12,  20,  120,  125, 

356 

Mary  of  Lorraine,  123 

Mary  Queen  of  Scots,  28,  no, 
155,  162,  169,  193,  196,  208, 
223,  292,  308  ;  her  marriage 
to  Darnley,  29,  39  ;  Eliza- 
beth's   plotting    against,    39 


2   B 


370 


BESS   OF   HARDWICK 


et  sqq.  ;  her  life  as  a  prisoner, 
47  et  sqq.,  63  et  sqq.,  85-6  ; 
her  description  of  Tutbury 
Castle,  62-3  ;  and  the  Duke 
of  Norfolk,  68-9,  75  et  sqq., 
85  ;  goes  to  Wingfield,  70-1  ; 
her  ill-health,  72,  79,  81,  97, 
230  et  sqq.  ;  and  Norfolk's 
execution,  87  et  sqq.,  97 ; 
strict  surveillance  of,  95-6, 
98  ;  her  misfortunes,  105, 
119;  her  claims,  115;  her 
fear  of  assassination,  117; 
and  the  Countess  of  Lennox, 
125  et  sqq.  ;  letter  written 
by,  128  ;  her  reconcilia- 
tion with  the  Countess  of 
Lennox,  145-6,  159,  160 ; 
and  the  birth  of  Lady  Ara- 
bella Stuart,  159 ;  Lord 
Burghley  and,  166  et  sqq.  ; 
at  Buxton,  171  ;  her  friend- 
ship with  Lady  Shrewsbury, 
174,  209;  and  Leicester, 
176-7,  1 90- 1  ;  her  reported 
escape,  207,  211  et  sqq.,  221  ; 
and  Lady  Arabella  Stuart's 
heritage,  220,  236  et  sqq.  ; 
her  love  of  gaiety,  225-6 ; 
her  diet,  228  ;  her  accusa- 
tions against  Lady  Shrews- 
bury, 241  et  sqq.,  246  et  sqq.  ; 
the  slander  against,  245,  249, 
250,  263  et  sqq.,  268  et  sqq.  ; 
her  execution  at  Fotheringay, 
266,  309  et  sqq.,  323,  337  ;  her 
"  Scandal  Letter  "  to  Eliza- 
beth, 271  et  sqq.  ;  her  bower 
at  Chatsworth,  352  ;  her  por- 
trait at  Hardvvick  Hall,  356-7 


Matthew,    Tobie,    Archbishop 

of  York,  363 
Mauvissiere,  242,  244  et  sqq. 
Mendoza,  Don  Bernardino  de, 

278 
Middleton,  Antony,  93 
Mildmay,  Sir  Walter,  293 
Moray,  Earl  of,  39,  69,  75 
Morton,  James  Douglas,  Earl 

of,  159,  240 

N 

Norfolk,  fifth  Duke  of,  177 

Norfolk,  Thomas,  fourth  Duke 
of,  68-9,  75  et  sqq.,  79,  82, 
85  et  sqq.,  97,  105,  119,  190 

Norris,  Lord,  188 

Norris,  Lady,  171 


Ogle,  Cuthbert  Lord,  45 

Ogle,  Jane.    See  Shrewsbury 

Osborne,  Peter,  24 

Oseley,  Solicitor-General,  34 

Owlcotes,  343,  351 

Oxford,  Earl  of,  loi,  105,  273 


Paget,  Lord,  46,  100,  275 

Parker,  Archbishop,  28 

Parma,  Duke  of,  332 

Pembroke,    Catherine    Count- 
ess of,  45,  163 

Pembroke,  Henry  Herbert, 
second  Earl  of,  24,  45,  163 

Pembroke,  William  Earl  of,  45 

Philip  of  Spain,  82 

Pierrepoint,  Sir  George,  20-1 

Pierrepoint,  Sir  Henry,  6,  20, 

41 


INDEX 


Pierrepoint,  Lady,  6,  41 
Poland,  King  of,  344 
Portington,  Roger,  301,  305 

R 

Raleigh,  Sir  Walter,  32,  344 
Rawley,  Sir  Walter,  338 
Robsart,  Amy.    See  Dudley 
Rolson,  275 

Roods,  Mr.  Serjeant,  257 
Ross,  Bishop  of,  71,  79,  81,  129 
Rufford,  35,  151,  199,252,327, 

351 

Rutland,     Edward     Manners, 

third  Earl  of,  254  et  sqq. 

Ruxby,  275 

S 

Sackville,  Lady,  126 

Sackville,  Sir  Richard,  17,  126 

Sadler,  Sir  Ralph,  86  et  sqq., 
265,  293 

St.  Loe,  Sir  WilHam,  13  ("  Bess 
of  Hardwick's  "  third  hus- 
band), i^  et  sqq.,  23,  286 

Scrope,  Lord,  48,  112 

Seaton,  Mrs.,  64 

Seton,  Mary,66--7, 232-3, 242-3 

Seymour,  Lady  Jane,  28 

Seymour,    William,    339,    340, 

342 
Sheffield,  Lady.     See  Countess 

of  Leicester. 

Sheffield  Castle,  35,  281  ;  Mary 
Queen  of  Scots  at,  73  et  sqq., 
85  et  sqq.,  95  et  sqq.,  iio  et 
sqq.,  171,  193,  231  etsqq. 

Shrewsbury,  Edward  Talbot, 
eighth  Earl  of,  43,  45,  169, 
189,  308,  325-6,  340,  348 

Shrewsbury,  Ehzabeth  Count- 


her  birth,    i  ;    her 


ess  of 

early  life,  2  ;  her  early  mar- 
riage and  widowhood,  3  ; 
her  second  marriage  to  Sir 
William  Cavendish,  4 ;  her 
family,  5  et  sqq.,  12-13,  3^  ; 
rebuilds  Chatsworth,  7,  12, 
23,  72,  91,  202  et  sqq.  ;  in- 
structions to  her  steward,  9, 
10  ;  death  of  her  husband, 
10 ;  her  third  marriage  to 
Sir  William  St.  Loe,  13 
et  sqq.  ;  letters  written  to, 
8,  17,  18,  19,  21,  40,  42,  45, 
106  et  sqq.,  158,  181,  188, 
I93»  197-78,  202,  254,  286; 
letters  written  by,  9,  22,  183, 
194,  239,  290,  298,  329,  333  ; 
death  of  her  husband,  23,  32  ; 
and  Lady  Catherine  Grey's 
marriage,  27,  30  ;  her  suitors, 
32-3;  her  fourth  marriage  to 
Earl  of  Shrewsbury,  34  et  sqq.; 
and  Mary  Queen  of  Scots' 
imprisonment,  46-7,  50-1, 
63  et  sqq.,  86  et  sqq.,  95-6  ; 
and  Author's  interlude  at 
Tutbury  Castle,  ^2  et  sqq.  ; 
at  Wingfield  Manor,  70  et 
sqq.  ;  and  Queen  Elizabeth's 
suspicion  of,  72—3,  yj  et  sqq., 
97,  III  ;  and  Henry  Las- 
celles,  83  et  sqq.  ;  and  Mary 
and  Norfolk,  87  et  sqq. ;  her 
business  instincts,  1 14,  1 19  ; 
Mary's  attitude  to,  117; 
and  her  daughter  Elizabeth's 
marriage,  132,  145  et  sqq.  ; 
her  imprisonment  in  the 
Tower,    153    et    sqq.,    161  ; 


372 


BESS   OF   HARDWICK 


released  from  the  Tower, 
156;  the  birth  of  her  grand- 
child, 158-9,  173-4 ;  her 
love  of  matchmaking,  165 
et  sqq. ;  restored  to  Eliza- 
beth's favour,  170;  enter- 
tains Leicester  at  Chats- 
worth,  182  et  sqq.  ;  her 
social  importance,  193  ;  her 
household  needs,  196 ;  and 
Gilbert  Talbot,  197  ;  family 
quarrels,  200  et  sqq.  ;  the 
dissension  between  the  Earl 
and,  200  et  sqq.,  213-14, 
251,  260  et  sqq.,  279  et  sqq., 
312-13,  318  et  sqq.;  and 
her  love  of  building,  203, 
214  ;  her  grief  at  her  grand- 
child's death,  208-9,  213  ; 
presents  to,  from  Mary,  209  ; 
the  tenantry  and,  21^  et  sqq.; 
and  the  rights  of  Lady  Ara- 
bella Stuart,  220,  236,  239 
etsqq.,  ^iS  et  sqq.,  333  et  sqq., 
343,  345  ;  and  Elizabeth's 
flattery,  222 ;  and  Mary 
Queen  of  Scots'  illness,  233  ; 
and  the  death  of  her  daugh- 
ter. Lady  Lennox,  234  et 
sqq. ;  and  Mary  Queen  of 
Scots'  complaints  of,  241 
et  sqq. ;  and  the  Shrewsbury 
scandal,  245  et  sqq.,  268  et 
sqq. ;  and  Gilbert  Talbot's 
monetary  affairs,  254  et  sqq.  ; 
division  of  her  property,  258, 
284-5  ;  and  Queen  Elizabeth 
as  peacemaker,  267-8,  283, 
290,  292  et  sqq.,  312  ;  ap- 
pears before  the  Lords  of  the 


Council,  268  etsqq.;  and  the 
"  Scandal  Letter,"  27 1  et  sqq.; 
and  the  Earl's  financial 
proposal,  296  et  sqq. ;  appeals 
to  Burghley,  298 ;  Bishop 
of  Lichfield  and,  31S  et  sqq.  ; 
her  characteristics,  322,  354- 
5,  361  et  sqq.  ;  quarrels  with 
Gilbert  and  Mary,  324,  326  ; 
builds  Owlcotes,  343,  348  ; 
her  serious  illness,  344,  346  ; 
her  death,  347  ;  her  man- 
sions, 349  et  sqq.  ;  her  por- 
trait at  Hardwick,  354 
Shrewsbury,  George  Talbot, 
sixth  Earl  of  ("  Bess  of  Hard- 
wick's  "  fourth  husband), 241; 
his  ancestry,  34-5  ;  honours 
bestowed  on,  35  ;  his  mar- 
riage to  "  Bess  of  Hardwick," 
36  et  sqq.  ;  his  enormous  cor- 
respondence, 38  ;  letters 
written  by,  42,  45,  78,  97, 
106,  108-9,  ^^i»  ^^5'  ^^5» 
186-7,  193,  208,  234,  259, 
279,  281,  286,  299,  305  ;  his 
charge  of  Mary  Queen  of 
Scots,  40-1,  43,  45  et  sqq., 
95,  180,  231  ;  his  allowance 
for  Mary,  63,  113-14,  162; 
and  Mary's  life  at  Tutbury, 
64  et  sqq.  ;  at  Wingfield,  70 
et  sqq. ;  his  illness,  72-3  ; 
Queen  Elizabeth's  com- 
plaints of,  76-jy  97-8,  III 
et  sqq.,  156,  226  ;  and  Queen 
Mary's  health,  81,  96;  and 
the  attack  on  his  wife,  82  et 
sqq.,  97-8  ;  and  Duke  of 
Norfolk's  trial,  86-7  ;   letters 


written  to,  99  et  sqq.,  109, 
290,  301,  318  ;  his  charac- 
teristics, 113,  246,  254;  and 
the  priests'  accusation,  1 14 
et  sqq.',  and  EHzabeth  Caven- 
dish's marriage,  147  et  sqq.  ; 
and  his  wife's  imprisonment, 
153  et  sqq.  ;  his  present  to 
Burghley,  161-2 ;  and  his 
son's  proposed  marriage,  166 
et  sqq.  ;  his  expenditure,  169, 
227-8 ;  and  Leicester  at 
Buxton,  171  ;  entertains 
Leicester  at  Chatsworth,  182 
et  sqq. ;  his  parsimony,  196, 
201,  299 ;  disagreements 
with  his  children,  198,  251 
et  sqq. ;  disagreements  with 
his  wife,  200  et  sqq.,  213,  251 
et  sqq.,  258  et  sqq.,  312  et 
sqq. ;  and  Mary's  reported 
escape,  207,  211  ;  and  his 
grandchild's  death,  208-9 ; 
Mary's  friendliness  towards, 
209  ;  pleads  to  Queen  Eliza- 
beth, 212  ;  difficulties  with 
his  tenants,  214  et  sqq.  ;  and 
his  grandchild  Arabella,  220  ; 
wishes  to  visit  the  Queen, 
230  ;  death  of  his  son  Fran- 
cis, 230,  259 ;  and  Mary's 
ill-health,  231  et  sqq.  ;  and 
the  death  of  Lady  Lennox, 
234-5  ;  the  slander  against, 
245,  249,  250,  262  et  sqq., 
267  et  sqq.  ;  and  Mary 
Talbot,  254  et  sqq.  ;  his  dis- 
like of  Chatsworth,  258-9  ; 
released  from  his  charge  of 
Mary,  266  ;  visits  Elizabeth, 


INDEX  373 

266-7  j  ^^^  Elizabeth  as 
peacemaker,  267,  278,  296 
et  sqq.  ;  his  monetary  dis- 
putes with  the  Countess, 
284  et  sqq.  ;  and  Elizabeth's 
partiality  for  the  Countess, 
292  et  sqq.  ;  and  Elizabeth's 
profession,  295,  315  ;  Eliza- 
beth's decision,  296  et  sqq.  ; 
reproves  Mary  Talbot's  ex- 
travagance, 299,  300 ;  Sir 
Henry  Lee  and,  299  et  sqq. ; 
his  lonely  old  age,  307-8, 
315-16;  summoned  to  Foth- 
eringay,  307  ;  and  execution 
of  Mary  Queen  of  Scots,  309- 
et  sqq. ;  Bishop  of  Lichfield's 
advice  to,  318  et  sqq.  ;  his 
death,  322  et  sqq. 
Shrewsbury,  Gilbert  Talbot, 
seventh  Earl  of,  6,  43,  106, 
127,  157,  164,  228,  283,  286, 
308  ;  his  marriage,  36,  44-5  ; 
letters  written  by,  99,  117, 
171,  197,  199,  202,  215,  254, 
314,  346;  his  varied  duties, 
99,  223  ;  letters  written  to, 
109,  299 ;  and  his  first 
child.  III  ;  and  the  priests' 
accusations  against  his  father, 
114-15,117-18;  Court  chit- 
chat by,  IJI  et  sqq.  ;  enter- 
tains Leicester  at  Buxton, 
180 ;  his  illness,  195  ;  and 
his  uncongenial  home,  197  et 
sqq.  ;  dissension  with  his 
father,  198  et  sqq.  ;  and  his 
parents'  quarrels,  201  et  sqq., 
254  et  sqq.  ;  and  the  Shrews- 
bury tenantry,  215  et  sqq.  ; 


374 

and  Elizabeth's  "deshabille," 
221-2  ;  champions  his  step- 
mother, Lady  Shrewsbury, 
251-2;  death  of  his  son,  259; 
his  monetary  difficulties,  299, 
348  ;  his  love  for  his  step- 
mother, 314-15  ;  succeeds 
his  father,  324-5,  327  ;  his 
portrait  at  Hardwick  Hall, 
324 ;  quarrels  with  his 
brother  Edward,  326;  enter- 
tains the  King,  340-1  ;  and 
Lady  Arabella  Stuart,  342  ; 
quarrels  with  his  stepmother, 

343 

Shrewsbury,  Jane,  Countess  of, 

45 
Shrewsbury,  John  Talbot,  first 

Earl  of,  34-5 
Shrewsbury,     Mary     Countess 
of,  6,  II,  157,  252,  299,  314, 

.324»  337,  346,  348 
Sidney,  Sir  Philip,  225 

Simier,  272,  277 
Skargelle,  George,  226 
Skipwith,  Henry,  17 
Smith,  Sir  Thomas,  103,  173 
Snagge,  Serjeant,  314 
Somerset,  Duke  of,  25 
Southall,  Francis,  103 
Stafford,  Sir  Edward,  332 
Stanhope,    Sir    Thomas,    204, 

206,  252-3,  327 
Steele,  257 
Story,  Dr.,  92-3 
Stuart  Esme,  Lord  d'Aubigny, 

220,  240,  339 
Stuart,    Lady    Arabella,    213, 

312-13,  315,  348,   355  ;  her 

birth,  158-9,  173  ;  her  rights, 


BESS   OF   HARDWICK 


219,  220  ;  the  allowance  for, 
228,  240,  329  et  sqq.  ;  death 
of  her  mother,  234  ;  and  her 
succession  to  her  father's 
earldom,  236-7  ;  Mary's  be- 
quest of  jewels  to,  237-8  ; 
appeals  to  Elizabeth  on  be- 
half of,  238-9  ;  Lady  Shrews- 
bury's ambitions  for,  241, 
244,  322,  328,  338  ;  proposed 
alliances  for,  276,  332  et  sqq.y 
339,  344  ;  her  postscript  to 
Lord  Burghley,  331  ;  goes 
to  Court,  337  et  sqq.  ;  her 
betrothal  to  William  Sey- 
mour, 339  ;  her  arrest,  339, 
340  ;  appointed  State  Gov- 
erness, 341  ;  summoned  to 
Lady's  Shrewsbury's  bedside 

344-5 
Suffolk,  Duchess  of,  131,  151 

Sussex,  Earl  of,  loi 

Sussex,  Countess  of,  171 


Talbot,  Lady  Anne,  45,  163 
Talbot,  Lady  Catherine.     See 

Pembroke 
Talbot,    Lord    Edward.      See 

Shrewsbury 
Talbot,  Lady  Francis,  305,  325 
Talbot,  Lord  Francis,  45,  99, 

162,  224,  228,  230,  259,  280, 

325 

Talbot,  Lady  Grace.  See  Cav- 
endish 

Talbot,  George.  See  Sixth 
Earl  of  Shrewsbury 

Talbot,  George,  200,  208 


Talbot,  Gilbert.     See  Seventh 

Earl  of  Shrewsbury 
Talbot,  Henry  Lord,  45,  189, 

294-5>  301,  308,  325,  348 
Talbot,  Lady  Jane,  45 
Talbot,  John.    See  First  Earl  of 

Shrewsbury 
Talbot,  Mary.    See  Countess  of 

Shrewsbury 
Talbott,  John,  333 
Throgmorton,     Sir     Nicholas, 

92-3 

Thurlby,  Bishop,  94 

Thynne,  Sir  John,  32 

Topcliffe,  Richard,  264 ;  his 
letter  to  Lady  Shrewsbury, 
188 

Tutbury  Castle,  35,  351,  353  ; 
Mary  Queen  of  Scots  at,  40, 
47  et  sqq.,  62  et  sqq.,  jG  et  sqq., 
171  ;  Author's  Dramatic  In- 
terlude at,  52  et  sqq. 

W 

Walpole,  Horace,  357,  361 
Walsingham,    Sir    Francis,    23, 


INDEX  375 

78,  103,  165,  171,  173,  183, 
209,  223,  264,  267-8,  275, 

281  et  sqq.,  297 
Warner,  Sir  Edward,  27 
Warwick,  Ambrose  Earl  of,  185 

188 
Watts,  Archdeacon,  93 
Welbeck  Abbey,  35,  254,  258, 

3^1,  SS^  et  sqq. 
Wharton,  Lord,  188 
White,  Nicholas,  64  "i 
Wilson,  Dr.,  102-3,  i^S 
Wingfield,  Mr.,  37 
Wingfield  Manor,  35,  286,  297 

et  sqq.,  312,  334,  351  ;  Mary 

Queen  of  Scots  at,  70  et  sqq., 

265,  268 
Winter,  Sir  William,  173 
Wood,  Dr.,  326 
Worksop  Manor,  35,  197,  340, 

SSietsqq. 
Wortley,  Sir  Richard,  325 


Zouche,  Sir  John,  195 
Zouche,  Lady,  2,  3 


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